


A Dream of Peace

by Ketz



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Epic Love, Except for luke, F/M, Happy Ending, I like my malec healthy and good, Knight Alec, Lovers to enemies to lovers, M/M, Malec, Malec Smut, Minor Character Death, Morally Grey Characters, Prince Magnus, also, and Battles, and it will show, eventually, if you're looking for power imbalaced relationships, look elsewhere, they won't actually stop being lovers, various shades of grey, welcome to a bunch of details, who doesn't have a mean bone in his body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-10-05 17:11:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 87,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10313099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ketz/pseuds/Ketz
Summary: A long time ago, King Valentine, of the rich kingdom of Alicante, attacked the southerner kingdoms. He searched for triumph and annihilation, for uniting the realm under his rule and his alone.Instead of the easy victory, though, the greedy king found defeat and death, for the four kingdoms united for the first time in history, forging the Downworlder Alliance. As a result, the great families of the north were forced to deliver their firstborns to the Kings and Queens of the Downworlder Alliance, and so ensure their fielty and crush any further rebellions before they even sparkled.Only, boring history lessons had always annoyed the Prince of Darkness and heir to the Kingdom of Edom, Magnus Bane. As the anniversary of his Mark Day arrives and with it the Victory Tournament, he figures the only good thing the Mortal War really brought was his father’s hostage, the quiet Alec Lightwood, eldest son to the once great Lightwoods of Alicante.Good could become great, though. Magnus needs only figure out a way to get that boy away from the practicing arena and into his bed.After all, he couldn’t possibly celebrate his day of honor without a suitable gift, could he?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, Sharks <3
> 
> Have I ever mentioned that epic fantasy is my favorite thing ever? Well, you'll know now :D
> 
> A few fair warning: I'm a huge fan of A Song of Ice and Fire and I may or may not have based a few of the vocabulary on it. Expect weird ways to say age and a few more things.
> 
> Also, don't despair. It will all make sense eventually.

The sound of swords clinking against each other distracted Magnus from the list he was writing down. It wasn’t a problem at all, since he had been more than used to planning parties and tournaments, so the list was more of an exercise of patience than extremely necessary.

As heir of the Kingdom of Edom, it was Magnus’ responsibility to ensure the other three realms of the Downworlder Alliance witnessed the power and greatness of his majesty, Asmodeus, the King of Darkness. 

The biannual Victory Tournament was the perfect opportunity for it. Especially this year, since it was being held at Edom’s capital, Idumea, in order to celebrate the prince’s twentieth mark day.

Magnus touched the cat-eye shaped pendant that hung around his neck. It has been almost two decades since his protection mark was revealed. Magnus could barely believe it; it seemed like only yesterday when he had been the scared little boy walking into the Revelation Grotto, the taste of the demoniac milk still bitter on his tongue.

But no. It’s been twenty years and a war since then. 

And not just any war. The Mortal War. Magnus had been on the battlefield the day Alicante was defeated by the four downworlder armies. Back then, he had been only a boy of nine-and-ten, who still believed everything his royal father told him, who still wanted to win his love and prove his worth.

Maybe seeing the bodies the clash of armies had left behind was what changed Magnus. Maybe it was the devastation among his fellow soldiers of the demonic army, or the screams of pain from fallen seelie knights. Maybe it was the pools of blood under the bodies of the feral warriors from Lukos, or the hollowness in the eyes of the survivors from the bloody troops as they returned to Vampatria.

Something in the Mortal War killed Magnus’ ambition to rule his realm, alongside the last king of Alicante, the greedy Valentine of the now extinguished Morgenstern line.

But the war didn’t just leave destruction behind. Never in the history of the world had the four downworlder realms unified, but the threat of Alicante’s invasion made the miracle happen. King Valentine’s hunger for power birthed the Downworlder Alliance and it had lasted on in the aftermath of the war. 

Every two years, the leaders of the four kingdoms reunited for the Victory Tournament and decided the fate of the continent. Emissaries would attend the meetings as knights and warriors played games of war, only to be dispatched to inform the Clave of their orders. 

Magnus doubted they fancied it. The Clave was formed by the survivors of Alicante’s noble families, which meant old, resentful people whose ego was hurt every time they were reminded of the humiliation they suffered. A military realm such as Alicante should never had been defeated by its smaller, poorer neighbors but their pride and arrogance were their downfall. Now, they were submitted to the humiliation of being ordered by the very people they looked down on. Worse than that, four of the Great Families lost their heirs to the Downworlder Alliance.

Which brought Magnus all the way around to the clashing of metal. He stood up from his chair and stopped by the window, looking at the three men practicing by the armory. Lord Ragnor Fell watched as Elias could barely defend himself from Alec Lightwood’s sharp advances. 

Magnus smiled fondly and crossed his arms against his chest. Alexander was the eldest son of the proud and ancient Lightwoods and King Asmodeus had taken especial pleasure in choosing him as his hostage after the war was won. The Lightwoods were the richest family north of the Common City and they had supplied the Mortal War up until the bitter end.

Alec had been just a boy of one-and-ten when he was brought to Idumea, a scrawny thing with big hazel eyes and a stiff posture. Magnus had been among the nobles who witnessed his arrival and he hadn’t been impressed. 

But ten years changed that. Alec had grown into a beautiful young man, quiet but commanding nonetheless. King Asmodeus had never had an interest in the boy himself, so he allowed Alec to continue his lessons both in theoretical matters and practical fighting. That meant that Alec had learned every bit of history and languages that Magnus did in his age, but also that he had been taken into the training field to perfect the art of war.

Being a nephilim born and raised, it was no surprise Alec had natural talent at it. He was deadly with both sword and spear, but it was archery that he really excelled at. 

And all that training paid off. Magnus enjoyed watching Alec practice ever since they accidentally stumbled into each other on the thermal water pools a couple of years ago and Magnus realized the boy he rarely saw had grown into a man. A gorgeous man with beautiful legs and a chest Magnus wanted to get his mouth on as soon as possible. Not to mention those lips.

“I know what I want as my twentieth mark day’s gift,” Magnus announced without turning away his gaze.

Lady Catarina lifted her eyes from the book she had been reading, but before she dared to speak, she exchanged a careful look with Raphael Santiago. “And what would that be?”

Magnus smirked and indicated the training field with a flourish just as Alec cornered Elias and disarmed him with a precise strike that earned him a clap from Ragnor. “Alexander.”

“You can’t have a person as a gift,” Raphael stated blankly. One would think an Undead from Vampatria would be more interested in carnal events, considering the rituals they had in the name of their faith, but of course Raphael was different and boring. Magnus needed new friends. Preferably, not a priest of Death.

“Then I want him in my bed for a night.” Magnus shrugged and turned his attention back to the room. “It’d be a present for both of us. I’m not selfish.”

Catarina sighed and closed her book. “Don’t let Ragnor hear about that. He adores the boy, since none of the others can keep up with him on the field. He won’t be happy to know Alec is your newest target.”

Magnus brought a hand to his chest. “Target? That is so unbecoming. I’m offended that you would imply that I-”

“She’s not implying,” Raphael remarked, though he clearly had lost interested. “She’s actually stating that.”

“-that you would imply,” Magnus continued, “that I’d see another human being as a piece of meat. Especially such a well formed human being, with a marvelous behind in those tight trousers. They could use a change of color, though.” The prince shook his head. “Not the point. One could say that I’m in love with him.”

The whole act could’ve worked with someone else, but Lady Catarina and the Undead Raphael only stared at him with unimpressed gazes. The Prince of Darkness was known for his love and how it burned bright and hot, but only for a night. 

After that, Magnus would close off his heart again, until his next love would come up.

Magnus sighed, knowing his efforts were all for naught. There was no convincing his friends he was sincere, especially because all three of them knew the truth. Ragnor would see it too, that old knight. He could always see through Magnus, even when the prince was just a kid coming up with excuses to skip his fighting lessons.

“But he’s so pretty,” Magnus complained, knowing perfectly well he was being annoying.

Raphael shook his head. “Maybe, but he’s also a hostage. Don’t touch the king’s stuff. Do you really want to start a power play with king Asmodeus? And have the boy thrown into it? Is a night with him worth insulting your father and risking the consequences of that?”

It wasn’t. Magnus was completely aware of how his father dealt with insults. It wouldn’t be the first time Asmodeus would disapprove of Magnus’ choice and the last time that happened, poor Eva had to be smuggled away in the dead of night not to be found by the King’s assassins. 

If that were to happen to Alec, it would mean putting a nephilim hostage at risk without solid reason. As strong as the Downworlder Alliance seemed after a decade of maintaining the peace, toying with the children of the Clave was toying with the only leverage that ensured Alicante’s submission. They could make tournaments and watch their prizes shown off, but for the sake of peace, it would be better not to meddle with Alec’s life.

But still, as Magnus watched Alec pour a barrel of water over his face, he couldn’t help but wish he was one of the drops falling down the nephilim’s chest down to his trousers.

“Depends,” Magnus finally answered, “if he’s up to it, then yes, it is. And there’s only one way to find out.”

\---

Sword fighting was a constant in Alec’s life and he preferred it that way. It reminded him of the Lightwood keep, of the hours he spent with Hodge teaching the basic positions before he was old enough to even touch real steal. It reminded him of Isabelle and her sharp witty, the way she had always danced her way out of trouble with sweet words and a perfect smile. It reminded him of baby Max, who by now should be old enough to be receiving sword lessons of his own.

But mostly, it reminded Alec of Jace and their promise to always fight side by side. To always be there for each other.

The tournament was taking a long time to arrive. Alec missed seeing Jace, fighting against and with him in the rounds. As fond as he had grown to Edom’s customs and people, he’d never be one of them, not entirely.

“Good practice today,” Lord Ragnor said as he despatched Elias to seek Lady Catarina’s attention. Alec had hit him one time too many and opened a wound on his brow in the process. 

“Thank you, my lord. I hope Lord Elias won’t scar.” 

Lord Ragnor shook his head. “A little scarring would serve him well.” He laid a hand on his hip, watching closely as Alec cleaned his blade. “I don’t remember teaching you that last move.”

Alec hesitated for a second. Lord Ragnor had been a master of arms since before the Mortal War and he’d learned his trade by traveling throughout the land. It was uncommon for a downworlder to venture above the Common City, but Lord Ragnor was an uncommon man. He’d learned the fighting styles of all five realms, and some said of the Unseelie Island too. That had earned him a special place in King Asmodeus’ demonic army and the position of instructor for boys of noble birth in times of peace.

However, as good as Lord Ragnor was, Hodge had been Alec’s first master and the one whose lessons had stick until they became instinct. Alec always came back to his home’s style if he wasn’t policing himself. 

“I improvised,” he lied, not looking at Lord Ragnor as he resumed his work on the blade.

If the master of arms believed him or not, it was impossible to tell by his expression. Lord Ragnor touched the green crystal that hung around his neck, a habit all nobles from Edom shared when they were thinking.

Alec never understood it. He knew the pendants were supposed to protect them from the Demons they feared so badly, but watching grown men and women reach for their symbols for guidance was somehow absurd to him. Should they be true and brave, the Angel would keep evil away. That is how it should be. 

“Then improvise during the tournament,” Lord Ragnor said eventually. “A victory would bring good omens to this forsaken city.”

Nodding, Alec put his sword back into its sheath. Both had been a gift from his sister on his eighteenth blessed day. An adamante blade, covered with the Angel’s runes and a matching sheath to store it in. Alec loved it almost as much as he did his bow and quiver. “I shall try my best.”

Lord Ragnor nodded. “Your best will bring us the archery competition once again.” He sighed and looked at the young boys who were coming for their lesson. Sighing louder, he waved Alec away. “May Hell never find you.”

“And may you never find Hell,” Alec greeted in return and gathered his things before leaving the training camp. 

As the boys formed a line, Alec spotted a few girls hiding behind the pillars to watch. Lady Zoe blushed when she saw him and rushed the others away, but young Madzie stayed behind. She was a quiet girl with big curious eyes who always ran to Alec when she wasn’t having a lesson of her own.

This time it wasn’t different. Madzie approached him carelessly and pointed to one of the runes drawn on the sheath, flexing her right arm.

Alec smiled proudly and nodded. “Yes, the strength rune. What about the one under it?”

Madzie shrugged nonchalantly, making him laugh. Alec had been trying to teach her the runes for months, but the girl only cared for the ones she found pretty. He wondered if Izzy had the same problem with their baby brother.

“Do you have more lessons today, little lady?” Alec asked.

The girl giggled at the nickname and shook her head, but Alec knew it was a lie. With the tournament so close, all noble girls were kept on close watch to have their graces refined. Great families from all four downworlder kingdoms were on their way and Edom couldn’t afford to be outshined.

Considering that Madzie had shown great skills in sewing and embroidery, as well as reading and writing better than most of the children from the castle, her tutors were probably focusing on her less developed abilities. Such as holding up a conversation.

Alec could relate. He would often drift away during those lessons when he was her age too. “I was going to watch the sunset by the Hell Hole. Do you want to come?”

Madzie nodded eagerly and lifted up an arm so Alec would hold her hand. He had to slouch a bit, but Alec was used to it and the way to the stables was short. He helped Madzie saddle her favorite pony and then took care of his own horse. 

Being a hostage, Alec wasn’t supposed to leave the castle grounds, but the Hell Hole was technically within the royal forest’s limits. He had fallen in love with the waterfall the second he had laid eyes on it, during his first years of captivity, and curiosity had drew him to it time and time again. 

The guards had stopped bothering him after he turned six-and-ten and truth be told, Alec figured he could venture beyond the walls of Idumea and not answer for it if he so wished to. The last time King Asmodeus made use of him was years ago, when his parents refused to accept the increase of taxes over their fortune.

Alec guessed the poisoned blade almost touching his neck was incentive enough to change their minds. But other than that, his life as a hostage was fairly safe.

They arrived at the mouth of the Hell Hole in no time. Madzie was a remarkable rider for her age, so Alec had taken the shortcut off road he used when he rode by himself. As the vegetation withered down to dead retorted logs, rocks covered the ground in different shapes and form, none more inviting than the other.

There was a strange beauty to the place, something not quite right, but not entirely wrong. When Alec was just a boy, running around with Jace, they would go to waterfalls hidden in the Paradisiacal Gardens. There, everything was blue and green and it felt alive.

Here, it was red and brown, but no less dead.

Madzie barely waited her pony to fully stop before dismounting and running to the water pools, to play with the little fish that got trapped inside and gather the small shiny rocks. The river Styx fell into the depths of the reddish hole down below, but its drift changed during the day just as its color.

As the sun sunk behind the horizon, the river turned black. Alec quickly tied up the horses to one of the copper narrow stones and told Madzie to watch her step before settling down on the rocks near the edge. Differently from the forested back home, in Edom nature reached its peak at night. That was what Alec wanted to see.

When the light was sucked into the earth, Madzie came to sit next to him. They had found the perfect spot among the rocks, where Alec could watch the night sky while the girl laid her head on his thigh and played with the laces of his boots. 

“We ought to go back now,” Alec said quietly after a while. “You can’t be late for supper, little lady.”

Shaking her head, Madzie stared stubbornly at him. They had lit a lantern to illuminate the way back and now it made the girl’s determined expression seem harsher than it was. 

Alec arched an eyebrow at her. “Lady Iris won’t approve of you staying out after dark and you know it.”

That seemed to dissuade some of her conviction. Madzie pouted for a second, but then she shook her head once more. “More time,” she said. “Just a little more.”

They stared at each other in complete silence, both holding the other’s gaze. A gust of cold wind blew from the Hell Hole and if it wasn’t for that, Alec would probably had yielded first.

Thankfully, Madzie shivered with the cold and Alec sighed. “How about I let you ride your pony on the way back? But we’re using the main road.”

Madzie narrowed her eyes at him, but Alec could see that she was weighing out the options. As good as a horsewoman as she was, he never let her ride by herself at night. Not in the woods, at least. That must be more valuable than staying in the cold for a while longer.

Eventually, Madzie sighed in defeat and stood up, patting her skirts to get rid of the dirt. Alec counted that as a victory well won and picked up the lantern to guide them to the horses. He helped Madzie get settled on her pony and they made their way back to the castle carefully, with Alec watching her closely.

When they arrived to the stables, though, Madzie was yawning. Alec left the animals to the stable boy and carried her inside as she snuggled against his chest. Playing in the water pools must have tired her.

All he had to do was to take her to her rooms without anyone noticing they were gone for so long. Supper hasn’t been served, otherwise the kitchens would be full of servers carrying out plates of food. If Alec could use the back entrance to sneak into the-

“Lord Alec!”

Alec froze in place and turned around.

\---

“Lord Alec!”

Magnus blinked, lifting his eyes from the scroll he had been reading. The idea of choosing a room among the forgotten side of the castle was not being disturbed by sudden noises. After hours taking care of the preparations for the tournament, all he wanted was some peace of mind and a good old tale to read.

It seemed the Demons weren’t done with him for the day quite yet, though. But if they came in the shape of Alec Lightwood, Magnus was not going to complain. Carefully, he stored the scroll back in the box he got it from and stood up. Magnus could read all about dream reapers any other time; now it seemed he had a nephilim in distress to rescue.

“My lord,” Lady Iris had both her hands on her hips as she chastised a guilty-looking Alec. It was a somewhat funny scene to watch, considering Alec was taller than her by at least a head and a half. “I have warned you before. Madzie has lessons to attend and you cannot just take her into the woods, risking her life. Risking yours. The King must know of this reckless behavior.”

Alec flinched, but otherwise he listened to the scolding quietly, carefully holding Madzie. In any ordinary situation, Alec’s station would trump Lady Iris’, whose title was merely a courtesy extended to her thanks to her position as the noble girls’ mentor. She would never dare speak to him like this in front of anyone that mattered.

But as it was, there was only Alec, a hostage, and a little girl that, by the looks of it, had just been woken up by all the fuss.

“No!” Madzie said bravely through her fright. “Alec saved me.”

Magnus didn’t think any of the adults present believed the lie, but one had to admire the defiance on the little girl’s pretty face as she dared Lady Iris to contradict her. 

What she would’ve done, if Magnus hadn’t stepped out of the room he had been hiding in. “That settles things, I imagine.”

Both Lady Iris and Alec seemed surprised to see him there, but Madzie just smiled shily. “Your Highness,” Lady Iris exclaimed and bowed, minding her courtesies. “I was just-”

“Taking care of young Madzie, of course.” Magnus smiled back at the girl, ignoring the caretaker completely. “So, Alec saved you. Did you go out to pick up some beautiful gems, sweetling?” He gestured loosely to the shiny rocks she had been carrying. “With the tournament in my name coming, I guess everyone wants to look their best. I don’t blame you for wanting new jewelry, my dear. Only, night time comes so fast this time of the year, one can easily get lost in the forest.” Magnus looked at Alec, who was staring between them suspiciously. “Good thing we have a brave a knight among us.”

Madzie nodded eagerly and tapped Alec lightly on the chest to signal that she wanted to go back to the ground. Once Alec put her down gently, she bowed gracefully. “Thank you, my lord.”

“I live to serve you, little lady.” Alec made a curtsey back, earning a giggle from her. 

Magnus couldn’t help the fond smile that took over his lips. “Excellent. Now, Lady Iris, if you’d be so kind to escort the lady back to her chambers, I believe she had enough adventures for the day.”

The woman stared coldly at Alec and she seemed to be considering to protest, so Magnus just cocked his head to the side. “May Hell never find you,” he added, in a tone that left no room for discussion.

Lady Iris nodded in resignation. “And may you never find Hell, your Highness. Lord Alec.”

Magnus waited until they were left alone in the corridor to sigh in relief and offer Alec a smile. “That was fairly close.”

“Your Highness, I-I don’t know how to thank you,” Alec spurted out.

He could take a lesson or two with Madzie in the art of conversation, but Magnus forgave him at the moment he saw the anxious way those beautiful hazel eyes regarded him. 

“I can think of a few ways.” Magnus smirked, but waved away the joke with a flourish. Avoiding the rage of King Asmodeus was no laughing matter. “Will you join me for supper tonight, Alexander?”

Alec blinked in surprise. To his credit, that was probably the most words they had exchanged in years beside the required courtly amenities. “I-If your Highness would have me.”

Magnus smiled, enjoying that conversation already. “Oh, yes. Very much so. I’ll order a page boy to bring the food to my chambers, so you’ll have time to refresh from your day in the woods. You can tell me all about it while we eat.”

The shock took a second to pass, but then Alec nodded. “By your leave, my lord.”

All the stern politeness would normally bore Magnus to death, but the way Alec used it, like he could hear a nagging voice ordering him to watch his manners every time he opened his mouth, amused him. Magnus waved him permission to go and watched Alec leave with a bemused smile, fingers covering his lips.

The night had turned very interesting indeed. 

Hurrying back to his chambers, Magnus ordered a girl to refill his wine and bring out some bread and meat. He changed into a silky blouse that exposed his chest and chose a few of his favorite necklaces to make company to his protection mark as cover over his skin. A pinch of color on his eyes didn’t hurt either.

Magnus was finishing his hair when a knock came and the guard announced Alec’s presence. He too was wearing different clothes and they looked cleaner than the ones before, though no less boring. Alec may had taken to many Edomian customs, but he still favored the dark shades of the nephilims instead of opting for the colorful fabrics from down south. 

The black did bring out his pale complexion, though, so Magnus made no objections. 

“Alexander, come in. I hope you’re thirsty. I certainly am.” Magnus grabbed two cups and poured the wine himself. He had sent all the servers away for the night once everything was put in place. “From my personal collection, my darling. Wine from the fields of Vampatria.”

Alec swallowed hard, but accept the cup nonetheless, mimicking as Magnus sat down on the cushions laid out on the floor. He examined the content suspiciously, eyebrows furrowed deeply. 

Magnus let a chuckle escape. “Fear not, there’s no blood in this harvest. I know the Undead who made it and he assured me none of his priest friends bled in the making of this barrel.”

“Is it true, then?” Alec asked, still not drinking though. “They say the best wine come from Vampatria, but you never know if the color is from the grapes or from… Well, blood.”

There was an innocence in the way the question was asked that stole all the words from Magnus’ lips for a second. 

He smiled and took a sip. “Yes and no. The best wine comes from the Sacred Houses of the Dead. The Undead make it themselves and you know how sometimes they bleed to drain the color from their bodies. Because of the effort, sometimes those wounds open during the making process and there’s where the blood comes from.”

Arching both eyebrows, Alec nodded. “I see.” He must have realized Magnus was waiting for him to taste it, because he quickly took it to his lips. Alec almost managed to control his face, but the way his eyes narrowing just slightly gave it away.

“You hate it,” Magnus said with amusement. 

“N-no, my lord. It’s… rich.” Alec swallowed again and, as if to prove his words, took another sip.

Magnus found that adorable. “Not a wine drinker, then. Do you prefer ale?”

Alec pushed his lips together and grabbed a piece of the bread sitting between them. “Or water. I’m not much of a drinker at all.”

That was new. For a second Magnus was disappointed, but then he considered the possibilities. “Maybe you haven’t found something to your taste yet. You must come and dine with me every week. We can try different things until we find something more to your taste.”

But Alec shook his head. “I’m sure your Highness have more interesting guests than me.” 

It wasn’t quite the factual way that Alec put it that intrigued Magnus. It was the implications of it. “How do you mean, darling?”

Alec just shrugged. Alcohol or no alcohol, Magnus was enjoying this less formal side of him. He must get Alec away from prying eyes more often. “People who are more worthy of your... attention.”

Of course. Magnus should’ve seen that one coming. Everyone knew what an invitation to dine with the Prince of Darkness really meant, especially if there wasn’t any political motivation for it. Clearly Alec had put two and two together and arrived at the wrong conclusion.

Well, right conclusion, but still. 

Magnus cocked his head to the side and smiled. “Do you have any idea how many guests I have entertained in here, Alexander?” Taking another long sip, Alec shook his head. Magnus’ smile grew wilder. “Seventeen.”

“Seventeen?” Alec frowned and he seemed underwhelmed. “That’s not-” He blinked, finally reaching to the obvious conclusion. “Seventeen hundred?”

Magnus’ smile grew wilder still.

“Seventeen thousand?” Alec’s jaw fell open as his voice rose two octaves higher. 

At that, Magnus lost control and burst into laughter. “Or so they say,” he said when he managed to catch his breathe again. “Don’t believe everything you’ve heard, Alexander.” Magnus refilled his cup and picked up a piece of cheese, savouring it between giggles.

Alec frowned, but he seemed to ultimately decide not to take offence on the joke. “Why did you invite me here tonight?”

So much bluntness was not easy to find in the court, especially not in Magnus’ circle. He enjoyed it, though. It seemed that Alec was much more than a pretty face and now Magnus was starting to want to know more about him.

“I believe you know this year’s Victory Tournament will celebrate my twentieth Mark Day.” Magnus put down his cup and played with the rings on his fingers. At some point during the conversation, his goals for the night had shifted. “It should be no surprise that I was put in charge to arrange everything and I’m exhausted. I invited you here, my darling, because I want the company of someone who will not talk about parties, or meetings, or any of the sort.”

It was a part lie, but Alec seemed to believe him fully as he smiled, half embarrassed, half amused. “I definitely won’t talk about parties.”

Magnus nodded, realizing he believed it too. “That’s good. Now tell me what you were really doing with little Madzie in the forest. That should be a quirky tale.”

Alec fully smiled then and plunged into the story of how he would take the girl into the woods from time to time. As he spoke, Magnus couldn’t help but notice how gentle Alec’s voice was, or how his eyes shone with excitement every time he talked about going outside of the castle’s limits. 

They talked and ate and drank, until the sky was brightening up again and Alec could barely hold back his yawns anymore. Magnus was sprawled over the cushions, his cup long forgotten, eyes closed as he listened to Alec tell him of how his adored Jace had found a baby falcon and cared for him when they were boys. 

The story was adorable on its own right, but every time Alec had to stop and collect himself not to fall asleep right there, Magnus smiled to himself and hugged one of the cushions tighter to his chest.

When Alec left, after Magnus decided they should get at least a couple of hours of sleep, the prince wondered about the last time he had such a pleasant night.

Magnus fell asleep before he could recall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks for [QueenCow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenCow/pseuds/QueenCow) for beta-ing and being awesome in general <3
> 
> I can be found on [Tumblr](http://sweetillusionketz.tumblr.com/) and on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/Ketz_CML/). Kudos and comments are always appreciated! Questions too!
> 
> Ketz


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi :')
> 
> First of all, you guys are amazing. Thank you so damn much for the amazing feedback!
> 
> Second, who's ready for some nice times at a medieval tourney?

The banners danced to the fresh wind as the crowd walked through the pavilions of the Victory Tourney. Everything was perfect, or so Alec thought. The common folk laughed and played, excited to see the day’s matches, while the noble men and women from all five kingdoms bet on their champions and talked in groups.

The celebration would last for several days of festivities, each of them bigger and better than the last one. The Prince of Darkness had made sure wine and ale were plentiful, as well as the food. Inns from all over the city had sent food to the fair under the his patronage. There were silly games for the children, and even sillier games for the adults. Fortune tellers from all Edom were welcomed, just as singers and theatrical groups. Music sounded from the first strike of light in the mornings and all the way around, filling the night with melody and laughter.

Any aspiring singer or gifted cook that fell under Magnus’ grace was sure to be featured in one of the events he hosted. And anyone Magnus approved of was bound to be liked by Edom as whole. 

There was even a circus troupe, though Alec hadn’t gone to see them yet. Jousting had taken the entirety of the first day and the better half of the second, and Alec always favoured the war games rather than the other attractions.

Jace, of course, had won the jousting tournament. It was no surprise, since he was the best jouster of the land, or so the alpha families of Lukos would boast to whoever was near enough to hear. They called him Death in Two, which was both the numbers of strikes Jace usually took to defeat an adversary and an honor to the colors of his eyes.

Lukos’ pride on their hostage and champion was well-known and more than justifiable. It was only the third time Jace was competing, after being anointed a knight at the young age of five-and-ten by the Alpha Major himself, Luke Garroway, and it was the third time he was consecrated the best rider of the realm. 

Alongside Jace, Lukos was represented by other young knights who were certain to have songs written about in the next few years. Sir Bat Velasquez, a mountain of a man whose warhorse was the biggest of the competition. Sir Jordan Kyle, who was as handsome as he was prone to fits of rage. The deadly she-wolf, Lady Maia, a fierce warrior, both in chainmail and in silky dresses. All three of them were better knights than the world could expect and all three were defeated by Jace.

Alec had fared well too, to Edom’s great pride. He wasn’t particularly gifted in the sport itself, but he was a great horseman, so it was all the same. A sea of claps received him when Alec fell against sir Bat in their seventh strike, but none was as supportive as Lord Ragnor’s, whose shouts were louder than even the commoners’. Alec was a favorite of the common folk from Idumea, though he had no idea why. 

He had also been the last of their champions still standing and the only one to make it into the second day, a result none of Edomian countrymen could claim. Sir Elias had fell under Meliorn, the Knight of Leafs, and the mysterious Lord Malcolm had forfeited his second tilt, offering no excuses.

By the end of the second day, sir Bat had come to congratulate Alec on his horseman skills and Alec had paid him a horn of ale to celebrate his victory. He was accompanying sir Bat as the big knight finished his drink when Jace approached, with a horn of his own. Princess Clarissa was with him, spurting the golden pendant Jace had won alongside with the tourney.

“You look beautiful, my lady,” sir Bat commented. “The jewelry suits you much better than it would do Jace. I’m glad it has found your hands, although it might have been tainted since it came from his.”

The princess chuckled and touched the golden spear hanging around her neck. Every competition in the tourney rewarded the winner with a necklace that was worth a small castle. “I made sure to have it cleaned before accepting it, sir,” she said cheekily, but it only made Jace smile.

He had been in love with Princess Clarissa since they were children, if Alec recalled correctly. When Queen Jocelyn left the kingdom at the start of the Mortal War, taking the princess with her to live in Lukos with then sir Lucyan, Jace had been heartbroken. The war raged for an year and during that time, Jace had lost his appetite for anything but for training.

He had been the only of the four hostages that had gladly gone south when Alpha Major Luke chose his as hostage and Jace had been living happily ever since. Their betrothal was still to be announced, though, but there shouldn’t be any complains. Clary and her mother were accepted in the Downworlder Alliance as Luke’s family, for their services in aiding to defeat King Valentine and for the love the Alpha Major bore them. Their titles were kept as a kindness, though neither had any lands nor armies for themselves, and they had to renounce their last name.

Both the Queen and the Princess agreed to those terms wholeheartedly. In Lukos, loyalty and strength were the true measure of any men or women. For those qualities, mother and daughter were beloved by the country.

“Have you seen Izzy yet?” Jace asked, taking the seat next to Alec. They only saw each other every two years, but the familiarity between them only grew stronger. The boys who wanted to become parabatai when children had both achieved the level of shadowhunters, though the title was lost in the Mortal War.

For now, they settled for knights. “Not today. Lady Lydia told me Izzy and her were planning on visiting the nearby fair for Edomian silks.” Alec fidgeted with his cup of honeyed milk. “She should be back in time for supper.”

“Simon was looking for her,” Clary explained, but sighed in resignation. “Though he seemed to have forgotten all about that. We saw him talking to Lady Maia on our way here.”

Sir Bat straightened in his chair and it took a moment for Alec to remembered that he fancied Lady Maia. Funny how anyone as handsome and impressive as Bat could feel threatened by scrawny, awkward Simon. When he was chosen by Queen Camille as Vampatria’s hostage, the lords and ladies presented had frowned on her choice.

But time and time again had proven that Simon Lewis had more to him than met the eyes.

“He should watch out, or the she-wolf will shred him to pieces.” Jace laughed at his own joke, but Alec saw the way his friend’s eyes carefully watched the tension on Bat’s shoulders dissipate. “For now, we should focus on more merry stuff. Such as Alec’s upcoming victory at the archery competition tomorrow.”

Alec didn’t suppress the small smile on his lips as Princess Clary and sir Bat nodded. As defending champion of the archery competition, Alec had a responsibility. He wasn’t afraid, though. Of all his skills as a warrior, Alec had spent the most time practicing shooting arrows. 

It had become a second nature to him. The bow was an extension of his arm, the arrow, his sharpest weapon. Alec could hit any target he wanted to and that confidence came after years of training every single day, under sun or rain. If Alec was regarded as the best archer in the five realms, it wasn’t for lack of effort on his part.

“There are many good archers this year,” Alec said, because custom dictated he should. Then he smirked, exchanging a look with Jace. “It will be my pleasure to outdo all of them.”

Laughing, Jace raised his horn to that. Sir Bat chuckled in amusement and poured more ale for himself. “Ten years living among us and you two are still every bit as much of a nephilim as the day you’ve arrived.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “As long as that keeps vamps from winning anything, I can drink to that.”

And drink they did, until the horns announced the end of the festivities for the day. Every night, nobles from all fives kingdoms were invited to join the king for a feast and talk about the day’s conquests and defeats, to wonder about what the next day would bring.

It wasn’t different this time. When they arrived, most of the seats were already taken. There were four big tables, distributed in a manner that made the square that was the symbol of the Downworlder Alliance. In the middle of each table, the leader of each kingdom sat with their respectives hosts.

Alpha Major Luke was talking to his wife as they shared a plate of pie and a secret smile. The Seelie Queen sat with her chin on her hand, listening to one of her many suitors sing praises as she watched the room with a bored expression that never touched her sharp eyes. Directly in front of her, Queen Camille smiled behind a richly adorned goblet, looking like the wife of Death himself in a velvet crimson gown.

When Alec took his place on the table destined to Edomian nobles, between Lord Ragnor and the Lady Tessa, he realized King Asmodeus was nowhere to be seen. The Prince of Darkness sat on his place instead, as he often did when the king couldn’t be bothered to show up. He was smiling, listening to Lady Catarina whisper something in his ear as both of them stared at the Undead Raphael at the other table.

Alec accepted a roasted pigeon with honey sauce and let his eyes lay on Magnus for more strictly necessary. The prince had been favoring a more somber look for the tourney, with dark tones for his clothing and heavy fabric that fitted his broad figure. Alec couldn’t help but notice that Magnus’ stubble had been growing and it fitted nicely with the black shimmering powder around his triangular eyes. 

“It was a majestic performance in the jousting pit today, my lord,” Lady Tessa said, effectively bursting Alec’s bubble. 

Ever since that night at the prince’s chambers, Alec had caught himself having inappropriate thoughts whenever he saw Magnus, so he was thankful for the intermission. “My lady is too kind. I wish I had been able to represent Edom further into the competition.”

Lady Tessa shook her head, making her long brown hair dance. “I am glad you weren’t. I could not bare to worry about you too. One heart can only take so much.”

As much as Alec admired Lord Ragnor, the Lady Tessa was his favorite person in the Edomian court. Born a bastard to Lord Eidolon with a nephilim mother, Theresa Gray was raised to ladyship as a mockery to her father by King Asmodeus. He made her Master of Laws with the same strike that took Lord Eidolon’s lands and titles, throwing him into disgrace when it was discovered that the great lord was stealing from the royal family.

But nothing King Asmodeus did was to be taken into face value. Lady Tessa’s sharp mind and iron strength were famous throughout the kingdom. Having her as advisor in all matters of law and justice had ensured that the king’s justice was being properly served.

During the first couple of months of captivity, Alec had gone to her. He had been looking for some familiarity in a land he knew nothing and even less about. Although Tessa’s ties to the northern customs only concerned the blood in her veins, she had done her best to learn Alicante’s culture and accommodate the quiet boy that followed her around like a shadow.

It was during that research that she had acquainted herself with the hedge knight Will and the Silent Brother Jem, whom had since moved into her household. Rumor has it they all shared the same bed, but Alec had no interest in that.

“Sir Will did splendid in all the jousts I watched,” Alec said with a smile. “And the same goes for Silent Brother Jem. I didn’t know he competed.”

“Only when Will needs some grounding.” The lady sighed and smiled at the Seelie table. “Your sister grows more beautiful every year.”

It was true. Sitting at the side of Meliorn, the Knight of Leafs, Isabelle Lightwood chuckled at a jest and pushed her long black braid behind her shoulder. She had adorned it with tiny crystals that shone almost half as bright as her eyes and made her look like she had the night sky on her hair.

Alec snorted. As a lady of Alicante, growing to take their father’s chair at the Clave, Isabelle wasn’t invited to the feast herself. That obviously hadn’t stopped her. Alec was sure it hadn’t been difficult for her to guarantee the place beside the gallant knight, a favorite of the Seelie Queen.

Isabelle must had felt his eyes on her as she turned to her brother and smirked at him. Her fingers ran to the flowers embroidered in her dress and each tap on a different kind of flower was a message in the secret language they shared since they were children.

He didn’t have time to decipher her meaning, though, as Alec heard his name. When he turned to look for who was talking to him, he found the Prince of Darkness smiling at his direction.

“What do you think, my dashing Alexander?” Magnus asked. Both Lord Ragnor and Lady Catarina were staring at him too and suddenly Alec realized the room had grown very quiet. They were awaiting his answer.

Alec cleared his throat. “About what, my lord?”

Magnus sighed dramatically and gestured towards the Vampatrian table. “It seems the Undead has drunk one too many cups of bloody wine. He was just saying how their archers would win the archery competition. He even had the nerve to say you didn’t stand a chance to win this year.” 

Raphael muttered something from his seat, but he was too far away for Alec to distinguish the words and Magnus kept going. “Isn’t it a preposterous statement? As if you would miss any target at the tournament held in my honor.”

“Be reasonable, my prince.” Luke said from his table, though he was smiling and it took all the harshness away from his voice. “The tourney is about celebrating our victory in the Mortal War.”

“It seems it is a two-front attack.” Magnus gasped and then tilted his head to the side. “You all will be sorry tomorrow, when Alexander’s arrows prove to be as true and right as he is. You can have your jousting masters, your unrelenting hunters, your honey-tongued singers.” The prince smirked, his confidence unwavering. “In the morrow, my champion will reign over all of yours and bring home the all the honors. I’ve seen it in my dreams.”

Everyone knew Magnus’ dreams were no frickle matter. The Demons were said to have cursed him with glimpses of the future on the day he was conceived and at some nights, a window of time was opened to the Prince of Darkness when he slept.

“So.” Magnus turned back to Alec again. “What say you, my champion?”

Alec’s cheeks had grown warm with Magnus’ words, but now that dozens of pairs of eyes were glued on him, he had regained his composure. He didn’t care for the attention, but from one pair of eyes. They were framed with black shimmering powder and looked as kind as they did confident.

“I say that, by the blessing of the Angel and the prophecy of my prince, I shall win the archery contest tomorrow.”

\---

Magnus wasn’t fleeing, not really. That he was walking a tad too fast and making the route with as much people as possible in hopes to get lost in the crowd were both coincidences. Magnus wasn’t even wearing commoners clothes, as he used to do when he was younger and wanted to spend a day in Idumea without being recognized. 

He wasn’t fleeing and he wasn’t hiding either. At most, Magnus was blending in with everyone else. Being one of the people. Another face in a sea of faces.

Sure, his cloak was worth more than all of the prizes combined, but what of it?

It was all Luke’s fault. Magnus adored the man, but every time the Alpha Major started that annoying buzzing about Magnus stepping up to take his father’s chair in the Downworlder Alliance, all Magnus heard was nonsense. He had no problem sitting on the king’s place at supper or even deciding over small affairs, but if his father was lacking with his duties as a monarch, it was not his problem. The Alliance had been forged with Asmodeus’ seal, not Magnus’.

Luke never fell for those words, though. As always, he could see through the bored expression on Magnus’ face and reach the truth. Nobody asked Magnus to hold court on the days his father didn’t leave his chambers, but still he sat down and listened to the petitioners. Nobody looked for Magnus to dispense the king’s law, but Magnus still met up with Lady Tessa to condemn the guilty and free the innocent. 

But Magnus did not want to rule. He had lost his appetite for it and the Alpha Major would do good to respect that.

Magnus stopped in front of the pavilion he had been looking for. It was the biggest of the entire fair, richly decorated with a thousand yellow and red veils that fluttered with the light breeze. They made the entire building look like it was on fire, but that was unfortunately not true.

Taking a deep breathe, Magnus entered his father’s pavilion. He was greeted by four guards, two more than necessary, but none of them stopped him as he continued to cross into the main chamber. There were giggles coming from inside and a few soft wet sounds too. 

Under any regular circumstances, Magnus would’ve stayed as far away from that place as humanly possible. But it wasn’t a regular circumstance. It was Magnus’ twentieth mark day, which meant that two decades ago, his father had dragged his nine-year-old son into the Revelation Grotto and left him there, alone and scared. It meant that twenty-nine years ago, his lady mother was dying as she shout screams of pain and fought to her last strand of strength to bring Magnus into the world, while Asmodeus drank himself to sleep.

So Magnus pushed away the veils and ignored the shrieks of his father’s whores as he walked in. 

“Your Majesty,” he said blankly, eyes gazing into nothing, “your presence is requested at the Downworlder Alliance council. I am sure you were informed that a meeting would take place this morning, despite you not being at the feast yesterday.”

The king moved on the bed he was lying, though not to cover himself. He just grabbed a cup and took a sip, staring at his son with his hollowed eyes. Once, he had been a handsome man, Magnus was told, but that had been a long time ago. Asmodeus’ skin was plastered around his face, pale and vile. He had managed to retain an athletic body and he spurted no hair on his face, but the years had taken away every trace of warmth on him, if there ever was any.

“I was informed,” the king said lazily, putting down his cup. His eyes went back to one of the girls that was slouched on the bed, a pretty young thing that only looked half as afraid as she should be.

Magnus gritted his teeth. “The Alliance is the only thing that fuel our nation’s power. To ignore the other queens and kings is an affront to their trust and-”

Asmodeus raised a hand, interrupting Magnus at once. “It is your mark day today, isn’t it?” he asked, disinterested. 

“Yes, your Majesty.” Magnus swallowed his anger, drifting his fingers to his cat-eye shaped pendant. He needed a distraction, anything to subdue his feelings. In his father’s eyes, those were weakness to be explored.

The king nodded. “Then I should get you a gift.” He gestured at the girls. “Choose.”

Magnus’ eyes shut open in astonishment. “What?”

“Choose,” Asmodeus repeated with no hesitation. “They are all Blood Maidens. A token of Queen Camille’s appreciation. You know they are well trained in the art of love and lust. I can attest to that myself.”

“They are wives of Death,” Magnus said dumbly. All he knew of the Vampatrian religion came from Raphael, but his friend had told Magnus a thousand times that the Blood Maidens were married to the God of Death. Their attentions were all for those who were dying, for the God had inhibited their bodies.

Was Asmodeus…?

The king burst into a cruel laughter. “Then He can have them once I’m done.”

Magnus sighed. No, that would be too good to be true. The Demons would never allow such a gift to the world. “I have enough, your Majesty. Thank you.”

Asmodeus didn’t seem surprised by the refusal. He merely cocked his head to the side, still not dignifying his son with a gaze. “Hoping you’ll have the Lightwood boy to warm your bed instead?”

The tension on Magnus’ shoulders was all that the king needed to keep going. “I don’t blame you. He has grown up quite nicely, for a nephilim spawn. I hear he had fared well yesterday in the tourney. Impressive,” Asmodeus added, mockingly.

Controlling his breathing, Magnus let his father talk. He had learned with Etta that showing any concern would only make things worse. “You have an impressive hostage.”

“I do,” the king nodded. This time, he looked at Magnus, at the depths of his soul. “And you’d do good to remember that, son.” The ice steal in his voice dissolved as Asmodeus was done with him, his attention back to the girl in his arms. “You’re dismissed.”

The cold air outside the pavilion sent a shiver down Magnus’ spine. He wasn’t surprised that his father had learned about his interest on Alec, not when Magnus wasn’t shy about it, but to think Asmodeus would go through the effort of mentioning it… Magnus wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“My Prince of Darkness,” a familiar voice called. When Magnus turned, Queen Camille was smiling at him. She had chosen a black gown for the day, with golden cuffs on her long sleeves. She looked stunning.

Her ladies-in-waiting giggled among themselves and two of them blushed when Magnus smiled at their sire. They had known each other since they were kids and Camille had always been there for him. It was as if she knew whenever his father made Magnus feel worthless, whenever he needed a shoulder to cry on.

“The Queen of the Night herself,” Magnus said, offering her his arm. “Going to see the archery competition?”

Queen Camille accepted his arm graciously. “I wouldn’t want to miss it. Hopefully that pet nephilim of yours will leave the second and third places for my archers to dispute.” She signaled for her ladies to scarce when they reached the pavilion where the archers would prove their worth. 

Magnus chuckled and guided her to the places of honor. The Seelie Queen was there already and she greeted them with a nod. “I’m sure your archers will give Alexander a run for the first place, my lady,” Magnus said politely as he took his place.

“Not if they shoot like they joust,” the Seelie Queen commented. She had one of those faces one couldn’t put a number to. It was all beauty and intelligence and ruthlessness.

Anyone who watched the two women talk would think they hated each other. Magnus knew that was true enough, but there was also something else there. A respect they didn’t have for anyone else, nor even Luke or his father.

Camille smirked and signaled the serving boy for a flag of wine. “One knight doesn’t make an army. As skilled as Meliorn is, he is not enough.”

Whatever the answer of the other queen was, and there was an answer, the roar of the bugles announcing the competitors was louder. Magnus had a mind to order some fae whisky for himself, but the sight of Alec walking into the shooting range made him forget all about that.

Alexander was gorgeous, but never as much as when he was sure of himself. Carrying his bow and arrow, and wrapped up in a black leather jacket, Alec walked with the confidence of the experienced warrior he wasn’t.

He sat by the back of the arena, tending to his arrows. As reigning champion, Alec would be the last to shot every turn. The targets would grow smaller and further away each time and those who missed them in three shots or couldn’t amount as much points would be eliminated.

Lord Jonathan was with him, laughing and boasting about his nearest conquist, no doubt. Magnus had little affection for the celebrated Jace, the Death in Two. To him, the boy was arrogant and annoying, too much a child in the body of a grown man. He was pretty, Magnus gave him that, but it made him even more insufferable. What Alec saw in him to regard the boy so highly, Magnus would never know.

Magnus clapped politely when Jace advanced through the first round, but only because the Alpha Major had walked into the honored area with his family. His respects were to Princess Clary and her alone. 

Alec was the last one to go and he hit the target on his first try with a conservative blow. He was always like that, Magnus remarked quietly. Alec didn’t show off, he didn’t stir up his adversaries. He shot arrows, precise and effective. 

There was something appealing about that. The practicality, the firmness. Alec was blunt even in his actions and Magnus liked that.

He shouldn’t, though, not after what Asmodeus had said. Alec was too kind to refuse Magnus’ courting outright, but their night in Magnus’ chambers were enough for the prince to know his interest wasn’t reciprocated. 

Magnus could see it in the way the champions interacted with their lords and ladies once most of the competition was through and there was only four standing. Meliorn would gift his queen a rose every new turn. Jace would bow before Luke and ask the Princess to bless his bow with a kiss. Even skinny Simon, a surprise in the tourney, would honor Camille, although his courtesies were shaky to say the least.

Alec only had eyes to the target. Magnus figured if the king was there, he’d feel compelled to mimic his peers, but alas, it was only the prince. So Magnus sucked up his frustration and continued to cheer. 

To everyone’s surprise, Jace was the next one to fall. All four competitor made their shots, but Jace’s arrow was the furthest from the center of the target. Magnus imagined he would throw a fit and demand another roll, but Jace shrugged, patted Alec on the shoulder and left the shooting field waving at the crowd. The commoners loved him dearly and Jace repaid their love by gifting a nameless boy with his bow.

After Jace, Meliorn was the next one to go. Simon’s arrow almost didn’t hit the target, but Alec pulled him aside and whispered something that calmed him down. Magnus suspected it wasn’t anything very sweet, since the boy was still shaking when he prepared the arrow. 

Whatever it was, it did its job. Simon’s arrow flew straight into the center of the target. The crowd roared in celebration, for everyone cheered for an underdog. When Alec’s arrow hit just an inch away from Simon’s, the two finalists were decided.

Queen Camille smirked and added in a sweet voice, looking at the other queen. “What a pity.”

“Third place is still a place of honor,” the Seelie Queen responded simply and blew a kiss to her champion.

“I thought you people never lied,” Camille retorted, annoyed by the other’s composure.

“The Ancient Gods never lie and neither do I,” the Seelie Queen recited cheekily. The saying was as old as time but in her voice, it felt like a dagger. “And neither does the crowd, apparently. It is shocking that your boy has advanced so high.”

Camille was not particularly fond of poor Simon, Magnus knew, but she was prideful enough to defend him for the sake of her realm. “I don’t see your hostage anywhere.”

“That is because your eyes are not accustomed to this much sun. My Helen shines too bright for someone that comes from such a grim place like Vampatria.” The Seelie Queen indicated the stands where most nobles were seated.

It took Magnus a moment to locate Helen Blackthorn, but he finally saw her beside Isabelle Lightwood, Lydia Branwell and Aline Penhallow. The nephilim ladies all sat together, giggling and talking as they cheered for Alec.

Magnus looked at Clary and saw that the princess was watching the girls as well, looking lonely sitting by herself. In another life, where Clary’s father wasn’t a greedy monster, those would have been her ladies-in-waiting, the ones she’d tell her secrets and share the songs of her heart. Now, they were just friends she wished she had.

Touching her arm lightly, Magnus offered the sad princess a smile. Let the queens settle their quarrel by themselves. “How many tries do you think Alec will need to win, my lady?”

The princess startled but she smiled when she who was talking. “Would it be bad if I confessed I want Simon to win?”

“I believe aspiring for the impossible is the true measure of humanity.” Magnus shrugged. At the field, Alec and Simon were talking quietly as the last target was set in place. There was no animosity between them, though Alec seemed particularly annoyed. “Is that a normal interaction?”

Clary nodded. “That’s the face Alec has made around Simon since we were children, yes.”

Something about the casualness with which she said that made Magnus giggle. He had to police himself when the horn sounded again, announcing the last match. Simon would go first and then Alec, three times in a roll. The one with the arrow closest to the center would win.

It was a quick affair. As good as Simon demonstrated himself to be, no one could say there was a real competition. All three of Alec’s shots were perfect and somehow they seemed to carry more and more strength at each turn. Not once in the last round Alec had smiled and his hazel eyes were focused, chirurgical so. 

Alec had promised the archery championship and he had conquered it accordingly.

As Magnus clapped alongside the crowd, he couldn’t help but feel a bitter taste inside his mouth. His little fling with Alec was put abruptly put down by his father’s veiled threats and there he was, feeling personally happy by the knight’s victory. As if he had anything to do with it.

Watching mindlessly as Alec accepted the chain with an golden arrow pendant, Magnus wondered what was happening to him. It wasn’t the first time Asmodeus moved against Magnus over someone and usually one word from his father would be enough to sever whatever infatuation Magnus had. 

It wasn’t so this time. For some reason, this time Magnus wanted to fight. For some reason, this time defiance didn’t seem like a spoiled rebellion, but a worthy cause. But why was that?

If Princess Clary hadn’t cleared her throat, Magnus would never have realized the crowd was staring at him. He looked up, slowly coming out of his bubble of thoughts. 

Alec was standing right in front of him, just a couple of feet below. He offered Magnus the necklace. “Happy mark day, my lord,” he said in a quiet tone that Magnus wasn’t sure anyone else was capable of hearing. He didn’t care either. “I give you the archery contest. May Hell never find you.”

Carefully, Magnus stood up and accepted the gift. “And may you never find Hell, Alexander. Thank you.”

For the second that it lasted, Alec’s smile felt like why.

\---

If anyone asked Alec about the feast, he honestly wouldn’t be able to answer cohesively. To celebrate his victory, Alec had accepted one of the - many - goblets of hippocras that Jace sent his way. He found out the sweet taste of cinnamon masqueraded the alcohol of the wine, and soon Alec had a collection of goblets in front of him. 

The numbness the beverage gave him was welcome as many ladies and lords took the chance of the feast to congratulate him. Alec had always seen compliments as a form of recognition, something to be given when one earned it. That was how Hodge used them, with caution and moderation.

There was not how people did it on the South. Praises were like smiles and they were offered without care nor responsibility. Alec rarely knew how to take them, but the hippocras showed him the way. A smile and a nod would suffice, though sometimes Alec added a praise of his own in return.

None of those meant anything, not truly. Not until the Prince of Darkness showed up wearing the golden pendant Alec had gifted him. When he decided to gift the prince with the prize, Alec had focused his entire being into reaching that goal. Nothing else had mattered until he had the necklace in his hands. And now, Magnus honored him by wearing it.

That had a meaning, although Alec wasn’t sure which as of yet. He just knew he liked it immensely. 

Funny enough, the sense of pride that came with the image of Magnus wearing the pendant stayed throughout the rest of the tourney. The melee was still to happen, just as the swords fights, but Alec elected to spend most of his free time with his beloved sister. 

That meant walking around the fair and watching the other attractions, which in turn meant bumping with the prince every so often. Magnus would smile and praise Isabelle’s dress whenever they met, but Alec only had eyes to the prince’s jewelry. At first, he had been childishly disappointed not to see his necklace, but when Isabelle pointed out the arrow-shaped ring on Magnus’ ear, Alec’s heart skipped a beat.

For the rest of the tourney, Alec noticed, the Prince of Darkness had favored arrow-shaped jewelry.

It was a silly thing to be happy about, but it didn’t stop Alec from smiling to himself quietly. In the last night before the nobles returned to their countries, that thought kept Alec balanced as he shared a last meal with his siblings in his room. Princess Clary was there too and so was Simon.

They had shared meat pies and salty cheese, all talking excitedly. The sadness didn’t hit the mood of the room until the very last bite, but by then there were no more smiles. Isabelle had declared she was spending the night there with her brother, as she always did, but they were no longer children and it would be inappropriate. 

At some point, all of them would have to head back to their tents in the camps their delegations were sleeping on. But as much as they could, they wanted to delay the departure. Only the Angel knew when they would meet again.

Nobody wanted to talk about that. Alec and Jace had exchanged glances from time to time, and even Izzy was restless underneath her charming ways. They had to talk. Secret messages hidden in the letter they exchanged wasn’t enough.

Alec opened his mouth, determined to get the matter over with, but a knock on the door shut him up. Frowning, Alec stood up. They had never been interrupted before. Clary and Simon had asked for permission to be there and everyone knew Isabelle, Jace and him spent the last night of the Victory Tournament together.

When Alec opened the door, he was surprised to find prince Magnus smiling lazily at him. “Alexander!” Magnus exclaimed in pure joy, cloudy eyes tracing every inch of Alec’s body. He smirked and leaned against the doorframe. “I was thinking, would you- Oh.” Magnus stopped and blinked when he looked passed Alec. “You have company.”

Maybe not everyone, then. Alec figured the Prince of Darkness had more important affairs to take care of then learning the whereabouts of his father’s hostage. “We were having supper together. I’m sure there’s something left if my lord would like to eat.”

Magnus blinked, as if he didn’t understand at first. “I was drinking,” he said quietly, almost a whimper. 

There was something disconcerting in the way he said that. Alec turned around, meeting the curious expression of his friends and family with a solemn face. “We’ll say our farewells in the morning.”

The message was quickly understood. Simon was the first to go and Clary followed suit, stopping only to kiss Alec on the cheek. Isabelle hugged him on her way out, whispering a kind warning on his ear, but it was Jace who truly looked worried.

A look from Alec seemed to reassure him and soon they were all gone. Magnus stumbled into the room and went straight to the forgotten flagon on the table Alec and Jace had settled. He drank directly from it, finishing off the wine in way less time than he should.

Grimacing, Magnus turned to Alec in disgust. “That’s not from Vampatria,” he said in an accusatory tone, shaking the flagon as if it had personally offended him.

Alec just shook his head. It took some effort not to laugh at the outrage on the prince’s voice. “No. It’s from Alicante. My sister brought it to us.” 

“That explains why it’s so dry.” Magnus put down the flagon mindlessly and stripped out of his cloak. He was wearing his eye-cat pendant and the arrow, but other than that, there was only a pair of velvet pants covering his modesty. “Not a problem. You’re sweet enough to make it up for it.”

Startled, Alec blinked and forced himself to look away. “M-my lord, maybe I could… C-could call the guards to escort you. To y-your chambers, I mean.”

Magnus shook his head but the effort seemed to give him dizzy spells. He either wasn’t aware he was half-naked or he didn’t care. Judging by the fact he could barely stand still, Alec thought it was the later. 

“I want to stay here,” Magnus said simply. “But I didn’t know you had company. I didn’t want to intrude.” He blinked and soon guilt was all over his handsome features. “I am deeply sorry. Call them back.”

“The hour was growing late, my lord.” Alec stepped away from the door carefully and picked up the cloak. “They would have to leave anyway. It is not proper for ladies to stay in the company of men into the night.”

“Yes. One wouldn’t want anyone to question Lady Isabelle’s or the princess’ honor.” Magnus ran his hand over the forgotten cups and picked up Simon’s, emptying the last of his wine for him. There was a sense of urgency in the way he did it, very different from whenever the prince drank with his friends. “You know, Alexander, image is the most important thing. See my father, for example. Everyone is afraid of him. Terrified, truth be told.”

Alec wasn’t sure of what to say to that. Was Magnus testing his loyalty? “He’s a strong king.”

“And a cruel man. A vile, petty man.” Magnus stopped and looked at Alec. Underneath the drunkenness, there was anger in him. Something that wasn’t induced by the alcohol. “He can’t have everything he wants just because he’s king. He can’t have you. And he can’t have me. He doesn’t deserve it. If it was left to him, we would all be doomed.” Magnus chuckled without a trace of humor in his voice. “If he’s the one the Demons fear, that is only because he’s worse than them all.”

If anyone so much as thought that Magnus was saying those things, the prince would lose his head. It didn’t matter that he was the next one in line or how popular Magnus was, that was treason. The worst kind of treason.

Grabbing the jar of water, Alec poured a cup for Magnus and offered it. “My lord, please drink this.” He wouldn’t let Magnus get out of that room, not while he was saying those things. 

To his surprise, Magnus accepted it obediently. He didn’t even complained when he tasted the liquid, but for a small grimace. “See?” He said after the cup was gone. “Too sweet. I want to fuck you, Alexander.”

Training among knights and warriors of all types of births had prepared Alec for a lot of drunk folly. He had taken care of many Edomian lordlings who thought themselves ready for accompanying the older man out at the city and had returned home incapable of walking on a straight line. He had watched as alcohol reveal more of men than they were willing to share.

He had not been prepared for that. Alec cleared his throat and grabbed some cheese. “Try this, my lord. My sister says it is the Seelie Queen’s favorite.”

Magnus nodded and took it, nibbling on the piece of cheese. There was no shame in him, so Alec wondered if he was even thinking of anything he was saying. Probably not. The prince kept looking for more wine on the table while getting distracted by the food in his mouth, completely ignoring that he had stomped over all customary decency.

Alec sighed. It would be a long night. “Are you cold?”

“Oh, yes,” Magnus said, nodding to make his point. Before Alec could offer him his cloak back, the prince closed in the distance between them and nudged against him, laying his temple against Alec’s shoulder. Magnus kept his hands to himself, though. “Thank you.”

It was too much. Whatever was bothering Magnus to the point of him trying to drown it in wine wasn’t enough to strip the prince from his true kind self. Alec snorted fondly and hugged him. “What is it, my lord? What bothers you so badly?”

“I don’t want to go,” Magnus finally admitted after a moment of silence. “If I step out of this room, I’m Magnus Bane, the Prince of Darkness again. I just want to be Magnus for a couple of hours, without having to think about what will happen next.” He sighed and now he just sounded sad. “I’m tired.”

Nodding, Alec came to a decision. “Have more cheese and some bread. Then we can rest for a couple of hours. You don’t have to go.”

The last sentence seemed to convince him, since Magnus just shrugged and went to get more food. Alec cleared the room from the pillows and cups that had been thrown around the floor to stop Simon from telling another one of his jokes and then started to prepare a bed for him on the floor.

Clearly, the prince had other plans. He hugged Alec from behind and threw both of them on the bed. They wrestled for a bit, but by the end of it, Magnus was peacefully resting over Alec’s shoulder, hugging him tightly. 

Alec chuckled when he realized there was no fighting Magnus. Maybe he could match him in strength, though the prince was larger than he was, but mostly Alec found himself very comfortable in that way. 

“I should blow out the candles, my lord,” Alec said eventually. Magnus’ breathing had soothened and he seemed at peace now that they were laying down.

The giggle changed that, but not for the worse. Magnus looked up, his beautiful eyes shining with mischief. “I can think of something more interesting for you to blow.”

Alec threw him an unimpressed glare that had the prince giggling even more. 

“Oh, Alexander,” Magnus whispered. “This is good. I wish I could stay like this forever.”

“You can’t rule the kingdom from here,” Alec said as he stared at the ceiling. His hand had begun to stroke Magnus’ back without him noticing, but now that he did, it was better to look away.

Magnus snorted. “I don’t want to rule. I don’t want to be like my father.”

Alec understood that well enough. “Then don’t. We all can be better than our parents.”

The silence that followed that wasn’t uncomfortable. They both had fallen deep in thought and for a while Alec was sure the prince was already asleep, but then Magnus moved just slightly. 

“I’m sorry I interrupted you and your friends,” he said quietly. “I know you don’t get to see them often an-”

“It is no problem, my lord,” Alec interrupted him almost too hastily. To sweeten the blow, he added, “they were on their way out when you arrived.”

“They were not.” Magnus chuckled lightly, snuggling against him. His fingers traveled over Alec’s chest to find the pendants laying over him and he played lazily with them. “I love my necklace,” Magnus said, his voice was barely louder than a whisper as he lost himself to sleep.

Alec smiled, his hand going to the prince’s perfumed hair. It was soft and untangled, not unlike that moment. With Magnus relaxed in his arms, Alec felt again the same happiness that fluttered his heart whenever he saw the prince wearing his gift. 

“I’m glad to hear it,” he confessed, letting himself fall asleep as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you [QueenCow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenCow/pseuds/QueenCow) for beta-ing this little number <3
> 
> I'm on [Tumblr](http://sweetillusionketz.tumblr.com/) and on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/Ketz_CML/). Kudos and comments are always appreciated! Questions too! Some lovely people asked for a hashtag, so #adop is what I'm tracking if you want to tweet about this fic :)
> 
> Ketz


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Everyone :')
> 
> It's been an year since malec first smooched and so, here is the most romantic malec I've ever written.
> 
> Plus, of course, a twist.

Going back to regular life was a bore, to say the least. Magnus always felt a little nostalgic after tourneys or grand events, mostly because he missed the atmosphere. The prince thrived in social gatherings and all the energy focused in just one place. With so much to do and so many people to talk to, Magnus was usually exhausted when it was time to go to bed.

And exhaustion usually meant not dreaming. Many and more in Edom believed that being asleep opened up one’s mind to the magical world, the one where the Demons reigned free. It wasn’t rare that someone dreamed of a coming event or that people were given messages while sleeping. King Asmodeus himself had used his Dream Stones during the Mortal War to communicate with the other kings and queen.

But nobody actually saw the future, not like the Prince of Darkness did. Nobody had been cursed with knowing what was to happen, but only understanding it once it was already gone.

The first time Magnus had one of his prophetic dreams, he hadn’t been older than two. The vision had scared him so badly, he spent the whole night crying. Asmodeus had to order Magnus’ caretaker to take him away to the other wing of the castle so he could go back to sleep without his son’s screams bothering him.

When he was five, Magnus tried to stay awake as much as he could. If he didn’t close his real eyes, then he wouldn’t open his inner eyes. It didn’t work; the dreams kept coming. 

It didn’t happen every night. Sometimes it would be months until a vision appeared and most of them were too hazy to discern. Lady Catarina had told him it was probably the Demons trying to tell him something, but if that was true, then the Demons were in desperate need of a translator. Most of Magnus’ prophetic dreams were impossible to understand and all of they were too scary for him to even try to decipher.

His Mark Day helped a little. The cat-eyes were the ones that had access to the future and once Magnus started carrying them around his neck, the dreams faded away. It took years for them to come back and when they did, Magnus was older and braver. There was no crying that time.

Still, the dreams were always a mystery to him, no matter how much Magnus researched and searched. He sent for scholars and warlocks, those who were in touch with the Demons. Nobody could explain to him why he had been chosen or how to control the visions. All Magnus knew was that they appeared to him at night, at their own volition and shape.

The dreams were never straightforward and there was much to be confused about. Images danced and changed in front of Magnus, and he was powerless to stop them. There were a thousand sounds, most of them he couldn’t quite place in the real world. Smells that were not of Earth and voices. Too many voices.

But it was only after the events had transpired that Magnus realized he had dreamed about them. The first time he tried to understand what he had seen was during the start of the Mortal War. King Valentine had began assaulting the villages near the border, killing everyone in his way and burning away their houses and crops. Magnus had read the reports with a heavy heart and he couldn’t stop thinking about the lives that had been ripped apart in the name of one man’s greed.

That night, he dreamed with the Downworlder Alliance. Packs of wolves howled to a black sky with a bloody moon. The forest seemed to be alive as it concealed a thousand grinning demons. A single man walked in, his shiny crown turning black on his head and he screamed in pain, again and again and again, until there was no more sounds to be heard. 

It was no wonder Magnus hated it. In order to lessen their effect, though, Magnus had turned to all types of predicaments, but most of them failed. Lord Ragnor would brew him sleeping potions but Magnus’ dreams would still be stronger than anything his master could find in his garden. Staying awake forever was not a possibility and having somewhere to share a bed with only meant a pair of arms for Magnus to bury himself into when he woke up amidst heavy panting and cold sweat.

Tiring himself was still his best option and one that Magnus was used to. For all that he mocked his dreams when he was surrounded by people, even making up a few to scare his audience, Magnus would be happier if they never appeared again.

And they hadn’t, not since the tourney. Instead, whenever Magnus closed his eyes at night, he dreamed with one thing and one thing only; Alexander.

The night they spent together just might have been the best one in Magnus’ entire life, and they were completely dressed. Well, Alec was. When Magnus had woken up to his own naked torso, it had taken him a few moments to recall what had happened. 

Alec had been still fast asleep but he had woken up when Magnus moved. The lazy smile on Alec’s lips was the prettiest thing Magnus had ever seen. They had shared a loaf of stale bread and a jar warm honey milk before Alec had dressed up and gone to bid his friends farewell. 

Since then, it had been a lot of stolen glances and hidden smiles whenever they crossed paths around the castle. Magnus had emissaries to meet and nobles to entertain, but every evening he found himself crossing the gardens to the training area. There would be Alec, practicing and teaching the younger boys under Ragnor’s sharp tutelage. 

They had shared more meals together too. Whenever Magnus didn’t have to dine with anyone in particular, he’d ask for a servant to find Alec and ask him to join him at his chambers. It wasn’t always that Alec could be found, Magnus learned, but he would always come when he wasn’t venturing in the woods.

On one disastrous occasion, Magnus had even let Alec convince him to practice sword fighting. Ragnor had disapproved of Magnus’ reasons to be there, naturally, but not of his presence per se. It had been a couple of months since Magnus had fought anyone and Alec had gone easy on him, but soon all the lesson had come back to Magnus.

They sparred for the better part of an hour, between teasings and laughs. Alec was at his happiest when he was outside the walls of the castle, being able to move freely. That wasn’t Magnus’ preferred place to be, but he was starting to see its perks. 

Alec’s smile was the biggest of them.

Whatever was there between them was fun and made twice as enticing as Magnus knew the risk of pursuing it. During the morning after that fateful night during the tournament, Magnus had told Alec that he would be careful not to let anyone see him getting out of Alec’s room, so he didn’t have to worry.

“Why would I be worried?” Alec had frowned. “I don’t care if people talk.”

It was sweet, but then again, so was Alec. “That is not the issue, my darling. My father doesn’t quite approve of… of me seeking you.”

Alec had nodded, understanding the implications of that at once. It was no secret in the castle that the king had sharp ways to punish those who disobeyed him. After a few moments of consideration, Alec had finished to tie his cloak around his neck and had sat beside Magnus on the bed, brow furrowed in thought. “He can’t scare me away. He can’t hurt me without hurting the alliance. If we were up north in Alicante, this would be a problem, but down here… Down here people are free.”

Magnus had been taken aback by that, but thinking about it afterwards, he shouldn’t have. Alicante was the most traditional of all kingdoms, the only one that still insisted in dictating only single way of love. When there were Demons to fear, Death hovering over, an ever changing Moon, and nature in all its wisdom to adore, the kingdoms of the south had bigger worries than who one wanted to bed.

And Asmodeus couldn’t change that, no matter how powerful he was.

So far, the worst thing that had happened had been the fortnight Magnus had gone on a diplomatic mission in his father’s name. Visiting the lords and ladies of Edom that weren’t able to make it to the Victory Tourney was essential to make them feel cherished and keep the king’s peace. Besides, it was a great opportunity to see how things were being run in the countryside.

Under normal circumstances, Magnus would’ve welcome the distraction. He loved the feasts that were thrown in his honor and young ladies and lordlings would fight for his attention in hopes of securing themselves a marriage with the crowned prince. Some of the efforts were so scandalous, they made for amusing stories to tell his friends once he was back home. 

This time, however, those efforts annoyed him. More often than not, he’d refuse someone’s advance and go to bed alone. Magnus had taken Lady Catarina and Lord Ragnor with him to keep him company and he didn’t hesitate in using them as excuses to avoid a would-be suitor.

He’d rather not have anyone beside him when he dreamed about his dashing Alexander. But dreaming wasn’t enough. Magnus wanted to hear Alec’s voice, to see the way Alec’s eyes shone when he spoke about his loved ones, to have his heart flutter every time Alec and him accidentally brushed against each other. He wanted to have Alec with him, even if he wasn’t allowed to leave the castle.

Magnus groaned and threw the piece of chicken he had been munching on back to his plate. Lady Catarina stared at him, startled. They had stopped their way back to Idumea to have lunch by a beautiful lake, taking advantage of the clear sky and warm breeze.

“Are you not feeling hungry, my prince?” the Lady asked, partly worried, but partly annoyed by her friend’s lack manners. It was just the three of them, but the chicken had landed violently on the sauce and splashed onto her gown. 

Lord Ragnor snorted and took a sip of his beer. “Oh, he’s hungry. Just not for food.”

“I would be, if the food was edible.” Magnus arched an eyebrow at his old master, who had been the one doing the cooking. They had dismissed the servants to take a swim at another lake further on the road and kept only a handful of guards. 

The Lord didn’t seem to care for the slight. “The food is excellent. I guess everything loses its taste when one is in love.”

Magnus narrowed his eyes at him. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Of course not, my prince. Now pretend you still remember your courtesies and fetch the lady some water to clean up the mess your outburst made.”

Lady Catarina rolled her eyes. “There’s no need of that. Magnus, you should finish your food, though. The way back home is long and you become almost as insufferable as Ragnor when you’re hungry.”

“You wound me, my fair lady.” Ragnor brought a hand to his chest.

“She’s being too gentle,” Magnus said with a smirk, but got up either way. The lake was just a couple of steps away from where their table was set and since the sun was still strong in the sky, the water was clear and the scarce grass around it shone in bright green.

Magnus kneeled and drowned the rest of his beer before cleaned the cup. The lake was truly gorgeous and he was pretty sure he could see the bottom of it. If the prince shifted just slightly, he could also see his reflection in the water. 

As he was leaning forward, the first things Magnus saw were the pendants hanging in the air. The cat-eye looked especially yellow when paired up with the golden arrow. It made Magnus smile to himself. He had taken neither of them off since he first mounted his horse, fourteen nights ago. He was quite sure it was the necklace that had given him sweet dreams with Alexander and not the cursed ones of the Demons.

Gathering the water, Magnus was ready to go back, but something caught his attention from beneath the water. The bottom of the lake was made of thousands of small, round pebbles. Most of them were dark brown or black, as if they had sucked on the lake’s night color, but there was a different one that Magnus hadn’t seen before.

He shoved his hand into the chill water and grabbed the pebble. It wasn’t a diamond, nor was it a precious stone of any other kind. But it was white as milk, perfectly round and cold. As Magnus turned it on his hand, the pebble reflected the light prettily, redirecting the sunlight and turning warm in his palm.

And that gave Magnus an idea.

\---

Alec woke up to a knock on his door. He grunted and wrapped himself in the furs he used for warmth before dragging himself through the room. There hadn’t been much for him to do the last couple of days and Alec was finding it incredibly hard to come up with a reason to get out of bed early in the morning.

He’d rather sleep until lunchtime then wake up and wander around the castle. Without Magnus’ presence, the corridors seemed haunted. Like a ghost of what they normally were.

That meant missing his morning prayers to the Angel, but Alec wasn’t worried. He had spent so much time praying he’d understand what was happening to him, the Angel must have gotten tired of him. There were no answers, of course, but then again it wouldn’t be the first time Alec’s questions would go unreplied.

Behind the door, a royal guard waited. Alec recognized him as being the one that guarded Magnus’ chambers. “Good morning,” Alec greeted him quietly. 

“A message, my lord,” the guard said drily and offered Alec a piece of parchment. They were taught not to react, not to see, not to hear. Some said it was the sharp training that created the best house guards of Edom. Others said it was the obedience poison they drank before each shift, which numbed their curiosity and enriched their protective instincts. 

Alec took the parchment and read the message. It was written in a sharp, small handwriting in purple color. 

_My dashing knight,_  
I’ll be at the inner gardens when the sun starts to set. Would you give me the honor of your company?  
Your humble servant,  
Magnus 

“Is Mag-” Alec stopped himself and cleared his throat. Suddenly, his mouth felt very dry and his heart was racing. “I-is the prince back already?”

The guard nodded. “Yes, my lord. The royal entourage arrived during the night. They made good pace on their way back.”

“Oh,” Alec said in a small voice. 

Magnus was only supposed to arrive at the end of the day or even the day after. Shaking his head to get back to reality, Alec rushed to the small table he kept his books and grabbed a quill. He almost knocked the ink over a few of Jace’s letters, but finally Alec managed to write an articulated answer. He shoved it into the guard’s hands unceremoniously. “Please give this to the prince. And thank you.”

Wordlessly, the guard just bowed and left. Alec shut the door behind him and smiled, a small and hopeful thing.

“Keep it together, Lightwood,” Alec whispered to himself and decided a bath was in order. He decided against shaving the sparse beard that was covering his face and searched for clothes that weren’t damaged or frayed. 

It was ridiculous and Alec thanked the Angel Jace would never know how anxious he was feeling. He would never hear the end of that. Alec still remembered when they were only children and Jace learned that he was afraid of spiders. 

For a following month Alec would find a different spider on his bed before he went to bed. The one night Jace couldn’t find any spiders, he had Clary draw one for him. When the princess found out what her drawing was used for, she had put an end to Jace’s antics with a few sharp words and a flushed face.

Thinking about them made Alec’s heart tight inside his chest. No, he didn’t have time to waste on that. Dwelling about the past would amount to nothing, as he had learned growing up in Edom. 

Alec left his room to fetch something to eat at the kitchens. It was too late for him to go to the common rooms and have lunch, but there was always food in the castle if one knew where to look. The cook would smack his hand whenever he tried grabbing the tiny meat tarts he loved so much as a child, but then Alec grew into adulthood and suddenly fat Wendy would freely give him all the tarts he wanted and then some.

He wasn’t one to complain, though. Alec grabbed a handful of tarts, thanking Wendy and her daughter - who was always afflicted with some kind of problem on her eyes, since she wouldn’t stop blinking at him - and going outside to eat them and finish the book he had been reading. 

The little ladies were having a painting class at the inner garden when he arrived. Madzie waved shyly at him when she knew lady Iris wasn’t looking. Alec smiled and waved back. In just a few days time, Madzie would have her Mark Day and she had been equally excited and terrified for that. 

Alec was sitting on the warm grass, deep into his book when a shadow stopped over him. 

“Care if I interrupt your reading, my lord?” Magnus asked with a smile dancing on his lips.

Putting his book down, Alec smiled too. The red sunlight bathed the prince with rich tones, though none of them were quite as beautiful as his dark brown eyes. “I’d be delighted if you did.” 

Magnus’ smile widened and he sat down beside Alec, who leaned on his elbows. They weren’t touching, but only the fact that Alec could hear the clicking of Magnus’ jewelry was enough to make him feel lightheaded. 

It didn’t make any sense. He knew the prince for the better half of his life. Magnus had always been there, the heart of every feast and party Alec was expected to attend. He had always admired Magnus’ strength from afar, the way he commanded authority without sacrificing his kindness. 

But something had shifted in the last couple of weeks. Now Alec missed Magnus’ presence, his attention. It was a dangerous thing to feel, but no less exciting for it.

“How was your trip?” Alec asked quietly. 

Magnus shrugged. “Long. Lengthy. Eternal. Your pick, my darling. Dinner after dinner after never ending days of riding. It seems two years brought no changes to our lords and ladies down Idumea. But that was expected. A month ago, I would have welcomed the trip as a glorified excuse to extended a leg to the Spiral Labyrinth.”

Alec smiled in wonder. He had always wanted to go to the Spiral Labyrinth, the home of all Edomian knowledge. It was said to be a gorgeous castle, bigger than even the royal palace, where one could live for an year and still not know every single room. All heirs of the great families were sent there when children, to learn about their history and the mysteries of their faith. 

It was there that Magnus and lady Catarina had met and the prince always talked about it in a manner that made Alec’s curiosity grow into a slight obsession. “Why didn’t you?” he asked, confused.

“A month ago I had no one to come back to,” Magnus said simply. It was the honesty of his voice that made Alec’s heart skip a beat, or so he told himself. “Now I do.”

Alec smiled. He shouldn’t say anything, for encouraging any of that would only end in sorrow. But his heart spoke louder than his mind, as it often did. “Whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re back. Is that selfish? That I wanted for your trip to end and you to come back?”

Was it selfish that Alec had envied the lords and ladies that got to have Magnus’ company? Was it wise?

“I don’t know if it is selfish, my Alexander.” Magnus smiled fondly, his bronze skin shining like a precious stone, captivating the last light of the day. “But I forgive you if it is for I felt the same way.” He played with the many rings on his fingers, twisting one of them until he stopped suddenly. “Oh, my darling, I almost forgot. I have gifts for you.”

“Gifts?” Alec asked, putting emphasis on the ‘s’. It was enough of a surprise that Magnus had brought him something, but more than one thing?

The prince smirked with mischief and searched his pockets. Alec stared at him blankly and moved to a sitting position at the same time that Magnus produced a thin silver chain. A smile took over Alec’s lips when he saw its pendant’s shape. 

An arrow. 

“It’s not just to match mine, though.” Magnus tilted his head to the side and then winked at him. “Well, there’s that, yes. But also… You may not share our faith, and that is your prerogative, but I thought… Alicante sees weapons as protection. We have our marks. Maybe you could have a little bit of both. A mix of sorts.”

Alec blinked and carefully picked up the small, delicate arrow. “A bit of Edom and a bit of Alicante?”

Magnus nodded, looking at him with expectant eyes. “Yes. Like you and me.”

A grin took over Alec’s lips. He looked at Magnus and then right and wrong, a future or not; none of that mattered. “I love it. Thank you.”

Relief washed over Magnus’ face and he smiled too. “Good. I was afraid you’d hate it.” Alec was about to start protesting, but Magnus stopped him with a flourish of his hand. “For my second gift, - yes, two gifts, stop looking at me like that, Alexander - I want you to take a look at the arrow’s pointy end. There’s a gem engraved, can you see it?”

It took some effort but finally Alec saw it. The gem was a tiny thing, barely bigger than a pea. The gem was a small sphere of glassy white, almost invisible against the silver. “Yes. I don’t… It’s beautiful, but I-I don’t… quite understand.”

“This is a Dream Stone,” Magnus explained, pointing at the gem. “If you crush it before you go to sleep, you can communicate with one person, one time, through your dreams. I bid you use it wisely, my Alexander.” He smiled cheekily. “For example, the next time I have an unavoidable trip.”

Alec frowned. “I thought only his Majesty had access to Dream Stones. That he had banished their use after king Valentine acquired a few.”

“After Valentine stole a few,” Magnus corrected him. “Yes. My father smashed the stones he had carried to war, for they only work in pairs. But there are more here in the castle, if you know where to look. Fortunately, I do.” He smiled and picked up the jewelry from Alec’s hands. “May I?”

Nodding, Alec leaned forward. Magnus did so too and passed the chains around Alec’s neck. Everytime Magnus’ hands brushed against Alec’s skin, he would feel a shiver ran down his spine. It made it hard to listen to the prince’s words. “I asked my personal jeweller to engrave both ours arrows with a pair of stones as soon as I secured them. Thankfully, he can do magic with his hands.”

He was not the only one. Alec sighed in disappointment when he heard the click of the close and felt the chain weight like a feather against his skin. It wasn’t cold, since it had been on both his and Magnus’ hands, but Magnus’ skin still felt warmer, impossibly so.

Alec wouldn’t mind burning against them. 

He looked down to his pedant, touching it lightly. Magnus’ arrow was visible over his navy blue garment and they looked very much alike. Alec frowned a little and the gesture didn’t go unnoticed.

“What is it?” Magnus asked.

“It’s just…” Alec sighed, annoyed. “I only gave you one gift and you gave me two. I don’t have anything to offer right now.”

They were so close, Alec could almost feel Magnus’ body vibrate as he laughed. “Oh, competitive, aren’t we? One could say you gave me the necklace and the archery competition.”

Alec rolled his eyes, unconvinced. “They are two of the same.” He looked around, still mad about the disproportion, no matter how funny Magnus clearly thought it was. “Now I have to think of something as impressive as Dream Stones.”

Magnus chuckled again and smiled fondly at him. The sun was almost gone, but his eyes captured all the light in the world. “I’m sure you’ll think of something, my darling.” 

\---

An Edomian noble’s Mark Day was the most important day of their lives. For Magnus, it had been the day he had stopped being a scared nine-year-old and became a young man in the making. It was only after he had seen himself with cat-eyes that Magnus had had the courage to speak up to his father.

It had earned him a hard slap on the face, but also knowledged that Asmodeus was not as impassible as he made it seem he was. If he could be aggravated, he could be defeated.

But the Mark Day was also terrifying. Magnus remembered the day lady Catarina walked into the Revelation Grotto with unsure steps. Her screams haunted Magnus for nights, but it was her crying that desolated him. Catarina had ran to his embrace when she saw her skin turn light blue and her hair white as a crown’s.

“I’m going to die of a horrible disease,” she had whispered to him as they shared a bed at night. “Old and dead, but still a child.”

In the end, it was that vision that propelled her to become the most famous healer in the five kingdoms. There was little and less that lady Catarina couldn’t cure and she had saved the lives of more than a hundred demonic soldiers during the Mortal War.

Needless to say, Mark Days changed everything. And today, is was little Madzie’s turn.

The whole court was invited to a young lady’s Mark Day and that was probably the worst part of all. They would do the crossing to the Revelation Grotto on foot, while the warlocks would chant and bless Madize against the Demons’ influence, bathing her in scents and smoke. The poor thing would be wearing nothing more than a thin black tunic that she would remove once she was alone in the grotto.

Before entering, though, Madzie would recite the ancient words of the Demons and ask for permission and protection. She would drink the demoniac milk and once the warlocks allowed, she’d enter the grotto and stare at her reflection in the running water of the river Styx.

There, her mark would be revealed.

Magnus wanted to tell her it would be easy. Whatever she saw, it was not real and it couldn’t hurt her. Whatever she heard was just the water paths and the grotto’s sounds. There was nothing to be afraid of. 

And still, he feared for her. Madize was a small thing, scrawny and quiet. She never spoke during the time Magnus received the children for a lesson or two. She observed a lot, probably absorbed a lot too. It wasn’t healthy for a child to be so quiet, but Magnus wondered how healthy it was to drag her and make her see her body deformed in the name of protecting her from Demons.

Probably not very much either.

Lady Tessa stood by his side as the final preparations were done. Since she had been born a bastard, the lady had not gone through that process. Magnus found out over the years that those who had no marks were very averse to the whole affair.

Like Alec, who was nowhere to be seen. Weird. The knight would be the first to be there to support little Madzie. As a noble hostage, Alec was secured a place in the procession. 

It seemed Madzie was also missing him, since she kept looking around at the crowd, her big brown eyes searching and searching. Lady Iris kept giving her instructions, but the girl was deaf to them in her restlessness.

Magnus was just as upset, just from looking at her. He kept remembering his younger self, how much he’d wanted to have a friend there for him, someone that would give him the courage to go on. Asmodeus had kept all other children away from his ceremony, saying it was an adult affair. The revelation of his heir mark was a political business, just as much as it was religious.

“We are ready,” said the High Warlock, an ugly and wrinkled man with a mean, hollow voice. He was the same High Warlock of Magnus’ childhood, not an inch changed. When the prince was a boy, he thought the man was immortal, but now he knew he was just too old to be changed by time.

Lady Iris nodded. “Then we shall start. There’s no time to lose.”

Madzie blinked and now Magnus could see the terror in her pretty face. She shook her head in sharp movements, losing all composure as she started to look around in panic. She was so small, even for her age. Magnus felt the need to go to her, but he couldn’t. Not in public, not as the crown prince. 

“Madzie,” lady Iris said gently but with iron underneath her tone. “We have to go now.”

The little girl shook her head, taking a step back. “N-no, Nana. Wait,” she cried out.

Frowning, Lady Iris twisted her lips. “We have to go now, Madzie. Don’t be afraid, this is a glorious day.” She motioned to take the girl’s arm. All Idumea’s nobility was there and having a child misbehave wouldn’t do.

The loud neigh of a horse stopped her mid-way. Magnus didn’t suppress a smile when he saw Alec approaching from the other side of the garden, his horse galloping at full speed. He stopped almost too close to the gathering nobles and jumped from his horse with a single precise move. Ignoring the murmurs, Alec crossed the crowd and joined the other knights, his eyes never leaving Madzie’s.

Who was looking at him in return with just as much intensity. As Alec smiled at her, a single gesture that soothed the hard expression he had on, Madzie did the same. She turned to her caretaker and nodded, all fear gone from her small frame.

Lady Iris narrowed her eyes at Alec, but didn’t say anything as she stepped away. The High Warlock began his chanting in the old demonic language and his two warlock servants lit up the incense that would accompany Madzie until the mouth of the Revelation Grotto.

The crossing was an easy, made even more for the slow pacing. Nobody spoke as the High Warlock’s chants resounded through the woods, but many joined his prayers. As the Prince of Darkness, Magnus walked at the front, which allowed him to avoid the heavy smoke. He knew there were numbing herbs mixed up to it and anyone who had inhaled enough would fall into a lethargic state, so he was thankful for that.

As they walked, Magnus smiled when he noticed that Alec had managed to avoid most of the smoke on his own. He had pressed on his pace, closing in the group that headed the procession, but still kept his distance enough to be respectful. Alec had found the perfect place to be among the rest of the nobles and still in Madzie’s sight. Every time the girl needed encouragement, she would look at him and receive a small nod of reassurance in return.

They reached the Revelation Grotto a little over an hour after they started walking. It had been a slow walk, slower than the ceremony usually took, but that was probably for the best. Magnus remembered how hard it had been to keep himself steady and at some point, just hard enough. Little Madize did well, better than most. 

Magnus and the rest of the high ranked nobles formed a half-circle around her and the warlocks, while the rest of the expectators observed from afar. There wasn’t room for everyone. It was probably for the best, since having an audience never helped anyone with anything.

Madzie stood still, looking at the entrance. The grotto was a huge crack in the mountain, big enough to pull the tongue of the river Styx apart and let a horse go through without a drop of water hitting it. That was how they used to do the ceremony half a century ago, but things had changed since then. Now, the children walked in by themselves.

The High Warlock finished his chant and raised his hands up. One of his warlock assistants produced a goblet while the other grabbed a jar of demoniac milk. The pouring of the substance was a solemn part of the ceremony, and nobody said a word until the goblet was offered to Madzie.

Swallowing hard, the girl took a step back. Magnus didn’t blame her; she was probably the one who had inhaled most of the numbing smoke, so at this point of the ceremony, everything around her must had seen hazy and much too slow. The High Warlock’s scary mantle, full of embroided of demons and hell didn’t help either. 

Magnus wasn’t surprised when tears dropped from Madzie’s eyes. He had weeped too, to his father’s disgrace. Many children did. 

What surprised Magnus was that Madzie turned around and ran to the crowd of nobles. She only stopped when she found Alec, easily recognizable in his characteristic black attire. He stood out from the colorful clothing of the Edomian nobles for his monochromaticity and, at that moment, Madzie probably wanted the stability of it most of all.

Alec was taken by surprise as well, judging by his expression, but he didn’t hesitate to kneel and hug the little girl tight. He murmured a few words to her, stroking her back and hair carefully. After a couple of minutes, Madzie nodded, her face still buried on Alec’s shoulders. Slowly, she pulled apart and let Alec wipe her tears away gently.

When Madzie returned to the center of the ceremony, she brought Alec with her, holding his hand tight. She stared directly at the High Warlock and if there was still fear in her, her defiance spoke louder.

The High Warlock blinked. “This is unacceptable.” He looked up to Alec, who towered over him. “My lord, you cannot be here.”

“Your High Unholiness,” Magnus spoke up, making sure his voice was heard by everyone present. “As unusual as this is, I believe there’s no time to waste debating Lord Alec’s presence in the ceremony. If Lady Madzie doesn’t go in, the Earth’s light will pass and the whole thing will be for naught. We are already running late. So, if you please.” He gestured for the ritual to continue.

For a second, Magnus thought the High Warlock would argue, but then he just nodded drily. Turning once again to Madzie, he offered the goblet a second time. 

Madzie took it with both her hands and drank the demoniac milk by turning it over her mouth. The effects were immediate and soon her small body looked loosen up, almost as if she had forgot her fears and hesitations. Alec looked at her attentively, ready to interfere if necessary. When the girl raised her hand for him to grab, he didn’t hesitate. 

They walked together to the entrance of the grotto in small, careful steps. The warlocks had resumed their chanting and more voices joined them as the seconds passed. Madzie stopped a step before entering the darkness inside the mountain and looked at Alec, her eyes glassy and unfocused. 

She let go of his hand at the same time they heard the first blast.

Suddenly, the ground trembled underneath everyone’s feet. Magnus almost lost his balance, but he managed to stay up and secure Lady Tessa with him. He was checking on the other nobles when someone screamed.

A huge rock had detached from the top of the mountain and it was falling right onto where Alec and Madzie were standing. Magnus didn’t know if it was him, but someone yelled Alec’s name. Time stopped and, right in front of his eyes, Magnus saw the rock smashing against ground, destroying everything on its path. There was a sick sound of a splash and a thousand dry cracks.

Cries of horror sounded in a distance, but all Magnus could hear was his heartbeat pulsing against his ears like drums. Boom, boom, boom.

And then the dust settled and, behind what was left of the rock, Alec rose up with Madzie safe and sound in his arms.

The wave of relief that hit Magnus almost knocked him over. It was Lady Tessa now who did the supporting, grabbing onto him to make sure Magnus was not going to fall himself. It took all of his inner strength to stand tall again as the guards rushed to help Alec and Madzie.

As crown prince, Magnus had to hold his ground, unmoved by any circumstances. People were looking to him as a sign of strength and his duty was to them first and foremost. The Prince of Darkness could not be affected, could not waver, could not feel.

As himself, Magnus was terrified. All he wanted was to run to Alec and make sure he was safe. He wanted to hold him for it was the only way he knew his heart would stop stammering against his chest. But he didn’t. 

Magnus stood still and commanded that group of guards climbed up the mountain and investigated what had happened. If they stopped the ceremony, Madzie would never have her mark, for it was only on one’s ninth day of birth that the mark revealed itself. Tremors were rare in Edom, so there should be no more coming.

Thankfully, the Madzie seemed to numbed to realize what had happened as she grabbed onto Alec’s clothes, her face serene. Magnus inhaled sharply and told the High Warlock to keep the ceremony going. 

Hours late, it proved to be the right call. No more tremors happened and Madzie’s mark day continued smoothly. Alec had stood by the grotto’s mouth until the girl emerged and he helped her navigate through the rest of the rocks back to safety. 

Her mark was revealed to be gills on her neck and the pendant was commissioned to the warlocks. They had spent the whole day working on it while the nobles celebrated at the great hall of the castle. The effects of the incense and the milk were gone by the time they presented Madzie with her pendant come nightfall.

The feast was at its peak when a group of fours guards walked into the hall, accompanied by Lord Ammon, the Master of War. Magnus had been drinking with Ragnor and Catarina, just a couple of feet from where Alec admired Madzie’s pendant and showered her in compliments that made the girl giggle. But when the group stopped right in front of Alec, all the laughter died.

“Sir Alec,” Lord Ammon said with him booming voice, “by the authority vested in me by his Majesty, the King of Darkness, you are under arrest for the attempted murder of the lady Madzie.”

The blow was so quick, it took Magnus a few moments to understand what was happening. By then, Alec had been pushed to his feet, both of his arms held behind his torso by the guards.

“What in the name of Hell is happening here?” Magnus asked, raising from his seat. “Get your hands away from him! It’s an order.”

The pair of guards froze in place, but didn’t let go of Alec. Instead, they looked at Lord Ammon. The Master of War cleared his throat. “Your Highness, the search on the top of the mountain is complete. The rock that fell was a product of an explosion. These were found there.” He opened his hand, revealing the rest of distorted metal, turn black by ashes. “It is adamante, your Highness. Nephilim metal. By its shape and smell, it contained a small amount of liquified heavenly fire. A nephilim weapon.”

Magnus lost his breath, but he shook his head. “Sir Alec was with us at the mouth of the Revelation Grotto. He couldn’t have started a fire. Everyone in this room saw him there.”

“Heavenly fire just needs warmth to ignite,” Lady Iris said. She had appeared by the side of Lord Ammon and her green eyes were cold as steel. “Sir Alec could have left the device there and just waited for the sun to do the rest. Hell knows he went up there enough times to know exactly where to put it.”

“This is ridiculous.” Magnus gritted his teeth. He looked at Alec, who had been dangerously quiet since the whole thing started. The knight was staring directly at Iris, and if her look was cold, his was ice. “A piece of metal cannot be taken as definitive proof. In the name of my father, the king, I-”

Lord Ammon shook his head. “Forgive me, your Highness, but his Majesty has spoken on this already. Sir Alec has been found guilty and he shall be executed come nightfall tomorrow, for attempting to murder one of Edom’s nobility. That is the king’s command.”

The worst part was not that his father was behind this. No. The worst part was the way Alec looked at him, those beautiful hazel eyes full of gratitude and worry, not for his sake, but for Magnus’, and said in his sweet, sure tone, “it’s all right, my prince. I’ll be fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oopsie? :D
> 
> As always, huge thank you to [QueenCow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenCow/pseuds/QueenCow) for beta-ing this. A few words do not matter when I have you and your support and our hour-long phone calls <3
> 
> If you want to yell at me, I'm on [Tumblr](http://sweetillusionketz.tumblr.com/) and on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/Ketz_CML/). Kudos and comments are always appreciated! I'll be tracking #adop on twitter, if anyone feels like live-tweeting :)
> 
> Ketz


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey :)
> 
> So, before we start, an announcement: I won't be able to post chapter five next week; I apologize for it because… Well, you’ll see.  
> Warnings for violence and Asmodeus being himself, a jerk. Also, smart Magnus is too smart for this world.
> 
> Enjoy <3

“I am Magnus Bane, the Prince of Darkness, Heir to the Throne of Edom,” Magnus said cooly, barely louder than a whisper. The two guards in front of him had been trembling, stuttering things but still they stood between Magnus and the dungeons, so he would not spare their discomfort. “You will step aside and let me pass.”

One of the guards, the older one who had a horrible sense of fashion judging by that tacky mustache and way too many years on his shoulders to stop a rebellion should any of the prisoners escape, coughed loudly. “My prince, we’ve received direct orders not to-”

“And now,” Lord Ragnor interrupted him with a boring expression on his face, colored only by an arched eyebrow. “You’ve received another order. Open the door, soldier.”

Magnus stood there, not moving an inch. He had already repeated himself, which was more than he could afford to do as the prince. Magnus could not let a pair of dungeon guards see him waver, not against his father’s orders. There was no room for weakness in that battle.

So he didn’t move, staring at the guards impassibly. The younger guard was the first to break, lowering his gaze to his feet. He moved to the door, opening it slowly, half unsure, half terrified. The click of the lock made him jump, but the guard breathed out and went back to his post.

The older guard tutted, but stepped aside, opening the door for Magnus to pass. Ragnor nodded to them with a sly smile on his lips and walked in first, taking care of lighting up a torch for them. Magnus would have kept going, climbing down the stairs to the dungeons, but he had never been down there. The cells underneath the royal castle were a maze of lost souls and broken bodies, and the prince had no business getting lost in there.

But then again, Alec had no business being in there to begin with. Magnus hadn’t slept all night thinking about his Alexander alone in one of the dirty, humid cells beneath the castle. Even the Demons seemed to have been awaken by his sorrow, as they had decided to visit him in the rare occasions Magnus closed his eyes. 

When Magnus wasn’t tossing around in bed, he saw a single star in the brightening sky, flames dancing and birds flying. The brighter it got, the smaller the flames got and the farther away the birds flew. Needless to say, staying awake would’ve been less taxing than useless images haunting him all night long.

“This way,” Ragnor said, not unkindly. He knew those corridors better than anyone Magnus would trust to guide him there. The only thing Magnus knew was that Alec would be kept in the higher cells, destined to nobles. There should be some fresh air there and a bit of light, at least.

It was a small mercy, but Magnus clung to that thought as Ragnor stopped after a few minutes climbing down the stairs. The Master of Arms turned as if he intended to cross the solid wall, but to Magnus’ surprise, there was a hidden passage there. 

Another guard stood on the other side, but he made no fuss when he saw them. Magnus recognized him vaguely from when he was a boy and he was pretty sure the guard had served his father directly years ago.

Being demoted to a life in the darkness must have sparkled some sort of disloyalty since the guard pointed at the last cell to the right and walked away, giving them privacy. Magnus made sure to remember his face, so he could thank him with a promotion when all that mess was sorted out.

“My friend, I-” Magnus tried, but his voice failed him.

Ragnor nodded, understanding him nonetheless. “I’ll make sure nobody bothers you,” he said, handing Magnus the torch and an encouraging smile before leaving to the stairs.

Magnus inhaled sharply and crossed the corridor in certain steps, ignoring the empty cells he left behind. Alec had been put far down to the right and every step Magnus took made him want to run, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. If he ran, Magnus would cry the tears he hadn’t shed until then. 

So he stayed strong and kept walking.

Alec had been standing at the farthest wall of his cell, leaning against it with his arms crossed and eyes closed. He was tall enough to be able to see through the small excuse of a window, just a crack in the cold stone. From this point, he could probably see the inner garden.

“My darling,” Magnus breathed out. Alec was unharmed, but for the filth of the cell. The dim light made his pale complexion seem sick, but Magnus forced himself to remember there was no possibility of that when Alec had only spent a night in the dungeons. “My dashing Alexander,” he said a little louder.

Slowly, Alec opened his eyes. Magnus could see the smile in them, the way they fluttered with both surprise and delight, but Alec didn’t let it touch his lips. “My prince,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse and low. “You shouldn’t be here, if his Majesty finds out-”

“He can throw me in one of those cells if he’d like to.” Magnus put the torch away and grabbed the metal bars. “Come closer, my darling. I want to make sure you’re well.”

There was hesitation in the way Alec moved, but utterly he obliged and stepped closer. Whatever resolve he had built to stay strong didn’t allow him to touch Magnus, but the prince had no reservations. As soon as Alec was within reach, Magnus brought his hands to his face, tracing the lines of his cheekbones.

Alec inhaled sharply and leaned his face against Magnus’ hand. “I’m unharmed, my prince. I promise you,” he whispered, his voice trembling ever so slightly.

Brave, brave Alexander. Magnus couldn’t help the fondness in his voice as he realized his knight was still trying to stay unmoved, even on the day he was marked to die for a crime he didn’t commit. 

“Fear not, my darling,” Magnus said with more conviction that he felt, “I won’t let they hurt you. I have summoned the Master of Law and the Master of Diplomacy for an audience. I have no doubt in my heart we will find a way to reverse my father’s ruling. He won’t risk the alliance. This is but a ruse to scare me into obedience. I am so terribly sor-”

“No, don’t say it.” Alec clenched his teeth and brought a hand to hold Magnus’. “I am not sorry, not at all. Not for this.”

Funny how a couple of words were able sooth the ache in Magnus’ chest. He let his fingers trace down Alec’s face again, gentler this time. “Do you have any regrets at all, Alexander?”

Alec shook his head slightly, but then he stopped and considered. “One. I regret that this has ruined Madzie’s mark day. My prince,” he looked at Magnus with some hesitation, “I don’t mean to make you a message boy, but if you could find a minute to spare and tell her I’m sorry, I would-”

Magnus chuckled fondly and shook his head. “You can tell her yourself, my darling. I’ve told you, I’m taking you out of here and soon. I just came now to assure you of that.”

Closing his eyes, Alec leaned his forehead on the cold metal bars. “Please don’t put yourself in danger for me, Magnus. It’s not worth it.”

There was something so finite in the way Alec said it that broke Magnus’ heart. Did he really believe himself not worthy of Magnus’ devotion? Shaking his head again, Magnus stepped closer. “I would go to Hell and back for you. Wars have been started for less, my darling.”

Alec startled, but he clenched his teeth and touched his own chest. The thin silver chain showed under his blouse and Magnus was sure Alec was touching his arrow, a gesture not so different from what Magnus did with his own pendant.

The prince smiled and reached for Alec’s hand, taking it into his own. “The next time we see each other, there won’t be bars between us,” Magnus said gently. “I’ll take you to the Spiral Labyrinth and we’ll stay there for as long as you please. I promise you.”

A small, sad smile touched Alec’s lips, and he looked straight into Magnus’ eyes. “I would love to go there with you.”

“Good. It’s settled then.” Magnus smiled brightly and squeezed Alec’s hand. “I have to go back now and work on your release, my darling. But before I go I-”

Magnus never got to say what he had intended to. In a flash, Alec moved and sealed their lips together. There was desperation in the act, but mostly it was the urgency of it that rendered Magnus frozen. 

But then he moved, lips chasing after Alec’s. He pressed against the cells until there were only the bars keeping them apart. Alec grabbed onto Magnus’ garment, as if he would fall if he didn’t and Magnus held him close. It felt like the first and the last kiss in the songs, the start of something new and the end of something old.

They were both breathless when they pulled apart, only a few inches from each other. Alec’s face was flushed and more alive than Magnus had ever seen him, aside from maybe the time the knight won the archery competition for him. 

And just like that, Magnus felt fueled by the certainty Alec had not given up on them, even if he seemed to have given up on himself. Magnus could prove him wrong on that regard. And he would.

“If the Angel is good,” Magnus said with conviction, “this will not be our last kiss.”

Alec swallowed hard and let go, his fingers trailing away almost stubbornly. “The Angel is seldom good, my prince,” he said calmly. “He is brave and just, and he will bless those who are good. And you, Magnus... You are the best of all.”

\---

As Magnus sat down, he looked at the faces of Lady Tessa and Lord Stheno. The Master of Law sat with her back straight, her sharp intelligent eyes ready to be put to prove at any moment. Magnus had no doubts Tessa had spent the night reading all pieces of laws she could reunite in such short notice, looking for a way to overrule Asmodeus’ judgement. It was impossible to know whether she had find something, but Magnus was sure his iron lady would not rest until she did.

Lord Stheno was made of softer material. When the king appointed him as Master of Diplomacy, it had not been to honor him with a reward for the lord’s skills or because Asmodeus thought he would be a great diplomate should he need to send Stheno to represent Edom. The king wanted someone weak, a figurehead that would not cause trouble.

By the way Lord Stheno was fidgeting nervously, Magnus knew his father had chosen right. The man was old and powerful, but only on his small piece of land up the north of the country. He had titles enough to be appointed and yet, no pride of his own to make any decision without first asking the king. 

Or Magnus. With Asmodeus as disinterested in world politics as he was, Lord Stheno had trailed after Magnus for years, always asking for his opinion on matters of state. It caused for much discontent on the prince’s part, and a particularly uncomfortable incident when Lord Stheno found Magnus in bed with his only daughter.

But even then, the lord had only bowed and left. The girl had been sent to become a warlock, Magnus heard, which he supposed was a better life than freezing in her father’s frozen lands. As a warlock, she would have the autonomy of traveling throughout Edom and more education than she could ask for. 

In a way, it was good that Lord Stheno was such a weakling. Magnus had Lady Tessa for strength; from him, he needed only facts and no questions asked. 

“Counselors,” Magnus started the audience without wasting time with pleasantries. “I believe you both know why I have summoned you here today, in such early hours in the morning.”

Lady Tessa nodded and she would have spoken if Lord Stheno hadn’t been quicker. “Your Highness, before we start, there was a bird today, from Lukos. The Alpha Major informs that sir Jonathan never returned home after the tourney and-”

Raising a hand, Magnus stopped him. He did not have time, nor did he care for sir Jace, Death in Two. “We have more pressing matters at the moment, my lord. The King of Darkness has hastily judged our nephilim hostage guilty of attempting to kill one of our own. Sir Alec Lightwood is a hostage of the Downworlder Alliance, not exclusively of my father. Executing him without a proper trial could mean a rupture with the Alliance itself.”

“In this case,” Lady Tessa said, examining one of the many scrolls of paper she had brought with her, “the proper trial should be held by the four kings and queens of the Alliance. His Majesty does not hold the authority to decide on this matter by himself. Even if he had, the lack of a trial is a violation of Edomian law, as sir Alec is of noble birth and therefore, he is entitled to a trial.” She raised her gaze, staring back at Magnus. “I fear the king’s actions could have dire consequences, as it opens an ominous precedent.”

Lord Stheno gasped, but he covered it with a feeble cough. “Your Highness, shouldn’t we request the presence of Lord Ammon? He was the who made the arrest.”

Magnus shook his head. “Lord Ammon is the Master of War, which is something we are actively trying to avoid.” _Not to mention_ , Magnus thought, _my father’s creature._ “I need my Master of Law and my Master of Diplomacy to advise me on the best way to convince the king to reconsider his ruling. Now, my lord, what would be the course of action if one of the four kings and queens disrespected the Alliance?”

“T-the course of action, your Highness?”

Sighing impatiently, Magnus slammed his hand on the table. “Yes, the course of action. Would that be considered a declaration of war or would the infrator party be given a chance to explain themselves? Would they be excluded from the Alliance altogether or suffer economical sanctions? Edom imports half of its meat from Alicante and much more of its precious stones, necessary to make the mark pendants and our sacred rituals. Cutting that off would aggravate the warlocks, as well as jeopardize the people, so I ask you again, Lord Stheno, what is the Alliance’s course of action in case of an offense from one of its parties?”

There was a small tremble on the lord’s chin as he blinked, too stunned to answer. Magnus had never been so eloquent about matters of state, not with him. For all Stheno seek him to make his decisions for him, Magnus had always deflected him or sent him to his father instead. He wanted no part in Edom’s external affairs. Until now.

“I believe the standard course of action would be request an audience with the infrator party,” Lady Tessa said, unperturbed by the exchange. “If no sufficient explanation is provided, then economical sanctions would be placed. However, that is for minor offenses. Executing one of the hostages weakens the Alliance’s hold on Alicante and could cause uproars by the Clave. Not to mention, sir Alec is very popular in Edom. His death would not be taken lightly by the population. We would be facing both internal and external struggles, should the ruling remain unchanged.” 

Magnus nodded, considering if he ought to have requested an audience with only Lady Tessa. It would have been just as productive, but twice as fast. To Hell with proper decorum. “So those are the facts I will be taking to my father. Any suggestion on how to best present them to him?”

The solemn silence that followed the question was enough of an answer. Magnus couldn’t even blame Lord Stheno for his passiveness; he was asking too much of them. Rarely had Asmodeus listened to anyone but himself and even less times had reason influenced him when the king had made up his mind. 

But Asmodeus was no fool. Whatever facts Magnus brought him, he was sure his father was already aware of. But then why? Why arrest Alec for a crime he didn’t commit and risk a crises in the aftermath? Just to prove his authority and power over Magnus? It made no sense, even for Asmodeus. As cruel and ruthless as he was, the king would never be so reckless.

Magnus sighed. He couldn’t let Lord Stheno go, otherwise his father would already informed of that meeting before Magnus could even find him. Instead, the prince made Lord Stheno sit throughout the entire time he and Lady Tessa worked on the best approach, without ever asking for the Master of Diplomacy his opinion. That should serve him right.

When he felt sufficiently prepared, Magnus ended the audience. “Thank you, my lady,” he told Tessa and meant it with all his heart. 

“Good luck,” lady Tessa said. “I don’t usually believe in something as skittish as luck, but I’d gladly wish upon you, whatever can help with your mission, your Highness.” She grabbed his arm and squeezed it lightly. “Save him. And save us all too.”

Magnus took off without being able to do much more than nod. As long as he kept thinking about Alec, about the kiss he had granted him, he would have the strength to do what he must. For Alec and for Edom. It was his duty, for both his people and his heart.

“The Prince of Darkness,” the guard announced even before Magnus requested to enter his father’s residential wing. He found that odd to say the least, but then a second guard received him inside and guided him to Asmodeus’ studies, which was a place Magnus hadn’t seen in years.

And for good reason. His father’s office was as dark as the king, barely lighted by the chinks of his heavy curtains. When Magnus was a boy, he had pulled one of those curtains aside and found out they let into a secret garden. He had never asked his father about it, but Magnus liked to imagine it was there that Asmodeus took his lady mother for courtship. It was a childish wish, but it had stuck with him even after he was a grown man. 

Asmodeus was sitting on his main desk, lazily reading a volume of the White Book when Magnus was admitted inside. It was a boring monster of a book that talked about the mysteries of Hell, something Magnus lacked the taste for but that his father had been obsessed with since the beginning of times.

“Lady Lilith,” the king said when they were left alone by the numbed guards, “was the very first ruler of Edom. They say she was the one who woke the Demons by pouring her blood on the earth and calling upon them. They devoured her husband and crowned her the Queen of Darkness. A fascinating character.”

Magnus wasn’t surprised by the reception. “Wasn’t she the one who had her oldest son murdered to keep her crown?”

Arching an eyebrow, Asmodeus looked at him. “The boy wasn’t of her body. The Lady couldn’t produce heirs, so she called upon the Demons again and asked them who would inherit her throne among the boys and girls she had raised as her children. She killed the one they chose and crowned another, who was more to her likeness. Very fascinating indeed.”

“Interesting notion of ‘fascinating’.” Magnus didn’t let the veiled threat touch him. “My king, I came to ask of you to reconsider the matter regarding sir Alec. There was no trial and he has a right to it, as a nobleman. Said trial should be held by the heads of the Downworlder Alliance, as sir Alec their hostage. Should the current rule withstand, I am afraid-”

“You went to see him,” Asmodeus said with a hint of amusement. “This morning.”

Feeling his mouth grow very dry, Magnus exhaled sharply. There was no gain in denying it. “Yes, I did. However, my point has nothing to do with my feelings towards him. Edom’s future, both as a kingdom on its own and within the Alliance, would be put at risk if you execute sir Alec-”

Rolling his eyes, Asmodeus dismissed the argument with a flourish, not unlike his son’s. “You are so predictable.” He sighed in clear disappointment. “I have given the guards direct orders not to let you pass, but still you were blinded by your feelings and went against it. I had no choice but to order that the guards be whipped, one slash for every minute you were in the dungeons. Don’t pretend to care about Edom’s people, Magnus. You only care about your lover.”

A knife sinking in his heart would have hurt less. Gritting his teeth, Magnus tried his best not to let his emotions show on his face. “Why?” he asked, tired of that game he would never win. It was designed to hurt, him and others, everyone who was playing and those who were not too. “Why are you risking Edom? Why are you doing this? Is it just to punish me?”

Asmodeus closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly. “No, my son. No. You give up too easily, too quickly. You won’t save your little knight by telling me what I already know, by offering me nothing. You have been dancing to a fool’s song, dealing with scraps and crumbs, blinding yourself for the bigger picture. I am your father, Magnus. Ask me the right question. Make me proud.”

“I don’t care for your pride,” Magnus spat, but it only made Asmodeus smile. Deciding it was better to bite his tongue, Magnus calmed himself by grabbing his mark. The coldness of the pendant helped to clear his mind as he thought.

What could be a bigger picture than keeping the Alliance together? It was what held all the kingdoms together, what had defeated the powerful Alicante in the first place. Without the Alliance, all four downworlder kingdoms would be fighting against each other, blooding themselves dry. The Clave would bide their time until they were strong enough to attack once again. If Asmodeus was willing to risk destroying the Alliance, there would be chaos and war.

Both things he thrived at. But he couldn’t do it on his own. The demonic army was a sizeable threat, but by itself, it would be massacred by the armies of the three other nations. They didn’t have enough soldiers, nor power to win a war by themselves. Three against one was-

Magnus’ eyes shot open when he realized what the bigger picture was. “Who are you plotting to betrayal the Alliance with?”

The smile grew wider in Asmodeus’ lips. “Better. Still not the right question, but better. You know who it is.”

It was true. Magnus didn’t want to believe it, but he knew who would be that bold, and that foolish. He only didn’t want to believe his old friend could consider doing something that would cause such great suffering. “The Queen of the Night.”

“It was her idea, actually.” Asmodeus chuckled and he sounded genuinely impressed. “Camille approached me in the Tournament with the kindest of gifts, the entire continent. Her bloody troops multiply by the hundreds every year and they are the strongest of all four downworlder fighting forces. A sweet offer, from a sweet lady. She too is quite fascinating.”

Magnus narrowed his eyes. He wanted to be unable to believe him, but somewhere in his heart, he knew it was true. “So you intend to murder Alexander as your parting statement from the Alliance. You will pin on him some fabricated crime and weaken Lukos and Faeland on both size of army and control of Alicante.”

Asmodeus cocked his head to the side, looking curiously at his son. “You still don’t quite get it. Your little knight’s life rests in your hands, Magnus. Not mine.”

“What?” Magnus frowned, taken aback. How could he be the one deciding about Alec’s life? He had not been consulted and the king had already sentenced the knight to death. Magnus’ only hope was to convince his father to change his ruling. He couldn’t overrule him on his own and-

_You won’t save your little knight by telling me what I already know, by offering me nothing._

It was then that Magnus understood what the right question was. Looking at his father’s soulless eyes, Magnus swallowed hard. Asmodeus had never intended to kill Alec; he wanted to use him as a bargain chip. “What do you want from me in exchange of Alec’s life?”

This time, Asmodeus didn’t smile. The game was over and he had won, so there was no need for false pleasantries. “The best way to seal a new alliance is through marriage. You shall wed the Queen of the Night, so you both can rule together. Do you see it now, my son? I am giving you a better future. You will be thankful one day, when you look at the five kingdoms that will be united under your hand.”

Magnus shook his head, but the taste of defeat was already bitter in the back of his mouth. “And if I refuse?”

“The knight dies a disgraceful death knowing you tried to save him and failed,” Asmodeus said with a shrug. “My agreement with queen Camille won’t change regardless of your answer, but I know what you really care about. Save yourself some pain. Once the Alliance is over and Edom rules over all of them, I’ll give him to you. Until then, I’ll keep the knight to myself, unharmed in any way. You have my word, as King of Darkness. May the Demons eat my soul if I’m lying.”

All Magnus wanted to do was scream. He couldn’t save his people, who would be the ones to suffer the most. He couldn’t stop Asmodeus, who reign absolute without real defiance. He couldn’t forgive Camille, for her greed and selfishness. 

There was only one choice and Magnus couldn’t even rejoice in knowing he would be saving his Alexander at last. “I accept.”

“Good,” Asmodeus said in a dismissive tone. “You have my permission to inform the captain of the guard that there will be no need for the executioner tonight. Let it be known new circumstances arose and the boy was considered innocent.” He gestured for Magnus to go, but then arched an eyebrow as if he had just remembered something. “And tell Lord Ammon to keep investigating. For better or for worse, there was an attempt on the life of one of my nobles, after all.” He chuckled, amused. “As well as on the life of my son’s adored lover.”

Magnus had already begun to leave, but that stopped him. “What do you mean?”

Looking bored, Asmodeus sighed. “The explosion and the metal found were real. Someone tried to kill the little girl and blame your knight for it, that much is sufficiently clear. I should grant them a title for the beautiful gift, but alas, good custom says they shall die screaming.”

Frowning, Magnus decided not to question him further. That was a problem he would deal in time, once Alec was safe and out of that horrible cell. Right now, he had more pressuring matters. The sun was almost completely swallowed by the earth, so the execution ceremony would be starting at any moment.

Ignoring all his lessons of decorum, Magnus ran down the stairs, heading straight to the dungeons. He wondered if he ought to send word for Ragnor, but Magnus was almost sure he could find the way on his own. 

Magnus stopped in front of the door to the dungeons but it was only because he had been there just hours before. There was no one there, no guards to stop or welcome him. The most alarming part, however, was that the door was unlocked.

A sense of dread creeped on Magnus’ spine. By all rights, he should have turned around and called for guards. The dungeons were built so there was only one way in and out, which was that door. It was supposed to be guarded at all times, at the risk of letting the prisoners loose on the castle’s inhabitants. 

But Magnus pressed on, walking into the darkness with his heart tight in his chest. 

It took him a minute or two to lit up a torch and Magnus almost wished he hadn’t. Just a few steps away from where he stood, a guard was fallen over a pool of blood. Magnus kneeled next to the man, lighting his face. It was a wreck, as if he had been attacked by an angry beast, but that was no mistaken him. He was the oldest guard, the one that wouldn’t let Magnus pass in the morning.

“May you never find Hell,” Magnus whispered and closed the man’s hollow eyes. Against his better judgement, he pressed on, slowly descending the stairs. Magnus was careful not to make any noises, but it was hard to hear anything besides his heartbeat bumming in his ears.

Tracing the cold wall with his empty hand, Magnus lost his breath when his fingers touched nothing. Carefully, he lighted the entrance to the first level of cells. 

It was only years of courtesy training that stopped him from screaming when he saw the corpse of the second guard. This one had tried fight whoever killed him, and had died with his sword in hand. Magnus forced himself to calm down and kneel beside him too. He was holding onto his cat-eye pendant as he saw the two clean, deep slashes that had claimed the man’s life. Whispering him a prayer, Magnus rose up.

He didn’t want to keep going, because if he did, Magnus would find out whose was the third body he could barely see in the dim, trembling light of his torch.

Still, curiosity was too great. He had gone all the way there, so he couldn’t back down now. Magnus rose once more and gathered the courage to take a step forward, and then another, and then another. As he kept going, Magnus could feel the invisible eyes of the dead watching him, whispering to him. He couldn’t hear anything but his slow steps, but there was a warning in each of them.

Finally, he was close enough to the corpse to see it. The pointy end of an arrow was painted in red as it stuck out of the back of the man’s skull. There was another one on the man’s leg, right above his knee. Magnus didn’t recognize the feathers of those arrows as he wasn’t sure they were naturally red or just tainted by the blood.

He closed his eyes and for a third time, Magnus kneeled and prayed for the fallen guard. This one he said out loud, for all the Demons to hear, for the dead man was the guard that had let him pass without a word, the one from his childhood when the scariest thing Magnus knew were nightmares.

Slowly, Magnus turned to the cell where he had seen Alec just that morning. It was open, the keys still on the lock. Without anyone inside, it was just a couple of feets of rock and dirt, as hollow as Magnus felt.

But the cell wasn’t empty, not completely. Magnus’ eye widened in both surprise and dread when he saw the sign someone had painted in blood, a sign that had haunted his dreams during the Mortal War, be them prophetic or not. A sign any boy or girl in the downworlder kingdoms hated and feared, even ten years after it had any real power. The Angelic rune.

The symbol of Alicante.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready for the real plot to begin? ;)
> 
> Now, I believe I only got one comment that noticed something sketchy about Alec, Izzy and Jace exchanging letters in a secret language, but before that there were a few clues that things were not how it seemed. Chapter 3 has three clues and this one has five clues. Did you get them all?
> 
> The hugest thank you for my adorable beta [QueenCow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenCow/pseuds/QueenCow), both for proof-reading this and for dealing with my shit. 
> 
> I’m available for yelling on [Tumblr](http://sweetillusionketz.tumblr.com/) and on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/Ketz_CML/). Kudos and comments are always appreciated! I'll be tracking #adop on twitter, if anyone feels like live-tweeting :)
> 
> Ketz


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time for some answers and some perspective.
> 
> Also, angst. 
> 
> :D

The horse neighed impatiently as Alec brushed its mane. They had been at it since they reached the castle, which had been about an hour ago.

“Almost done,” Alec said quietly, focusing on the last of the mud that was solidifying on the animal’s legs. One of the stable boys could had taken care of that, but any excuse to stay out of the castle was good enough. “I can’t let you go to sleep all dirty, or it will be worse to clean when you wake up. I’m sorry.”

If it was possible, the horse would have rolled his eyes. It made Alec smiled a little, maybe the first time since his escape. He was physically exhausted, having ridden hard the whole night and the better part of the day in order to get to Faeland safely. Even the hours on the boat that crossed them to the new country hadn’t been pleasant, as Alec and Jace had to do all the sailing by themselves, something they had never done on their own before.

But if that was the problem, it would be fine. A night of sleep and Alec would be as good as new. Only, he couldn’t close his eyes. If he did, Alec saw the faces of the people he had betrayed. People he loved and had put at risk nonetheless. Little Madzie. Lady Tessa. Lord Ragnor. 

Magnus. 

Alec shook his head sharply, refusing to think of him. The plan was risky, dangerously so, but as Jace had pointed out, the only way to loosen up Edom’s hold on Alec was to get him arrested. The cell guards were way easier to defeat than the palace guards, as the poison they drank made their senses sharper and ready to give up their lives to defend the nobles inside. Cell guards had none of that, only a meak pay to look forward too. 

That and the fact that usually attacks on the dungeon happened from the inside out, not the other way around.

However, getting arrested meant committing a crime, and not just any crime. Alec would have to be implied in something a simple duel couldn’t solve, or something that couldn’t be blamed on Demons or other devious creatures. It had to be something that would cost his life under normal circumstances. 

Threatening the life of a noble, for example. Mess with a sacred religious ceremony. Ideally, both. Alec knew just how to do it, though it had kept him awake at night. At first, he hadn’t want to do it during little Madzie’s Mark Day. Not hers. But when Isabelle pointed out it was no mercy to spare her and maybe condemn some other child, Alec had to agree. At least with Madzie he was sure to be near her at all times. 

It was probably the only thing that saved both of their lives. Isabelle’s instructions on how to light up heavenly fire were as clear as she could manage, but neither one of them had done something like that before. Alec and Jace lost too much time in setting up the trap, mostly because they were afraid something could go wrong. 

And it had. 

The idea was never to kill anyone, so the explosion was supposed to have happened after Madzie was safe and sound, away from the grotto. All they needed was for a search party to get all the way up to the waterfall and find the adamante. A threat to a noble’s life was as bad as a successful attempt, maybe even more so as it implied another try could be made. One as sloppy if not more. 

When the procession to the grotto turned out to be too slow, Alec grew restless. There was no stopping the explosion, but he couldn’t rush the warlocks either. Every second seemed to take hours to pass and Alec had to force himself not to look at the top of the waterfall. Jace would have been long gone, hiding somewhere near to make sure things went according to plan. 

Fortunately, Madzie had ran to Alec before going into the grotto. Her own delay was making Alec desperate, both for her sake and safety. When she came to him, Alec didn’t hesitate to offer to go with her until the very mouth of the grotto. The closer he was to her, the better he could protect her if the explosion truly endangered Madzie, like it had. 

The thought of what could have happened kept Alec awake the entire time he spent in that filthy cell. He’d much rather they had escaped that very night, so at least Alec would spend those awaken hours doing something productive. Instead, he spent them dreading the prospect of what was to come. He had to be in his cell come morning, so Jace could use the uproar of the coming execution to steal the horses. Nothing like a good execution to divert attention.

Alec grunted and shoved the brush into the lukewarm water. It had been scolding hot when he’d started, but the air in Faeland was different from Edom; hotter and humid at the same time. It seemed to drain the energy of every living thing. Alec didn’t like it.

But then again, there were only a handful of things he liked happening in the last couple of days, so what was one more thing? 

He closed his eyes, remembering how worried Magnus had looked when he came to visit him in the dungeons. Worried and determined and so kind. It never occurred to him that Alec was guilty, that he was about to betray him. Alec should never have kissed him and yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret having a taste of Magnus’ lips.

Was Magnus still worried? Probably not. By now, Magnus ought to hate him and Alec didn’t blame him in the slightest. A part of him hated himself too. Deception, betrayal, violence against innocents. All things the Angel condemned and all things Alec had taken part of. 

And still, there was another part of him that knew it was necessary. Pointless wars were a grievous sin, but fighting to free his country from the enemy's hold? To be reunited with his family? To go back home? Those were not sins.

Those were his calling as a knight of Alicante. And when the rightful king called, shouldn’t the black knights answer?

“My lord Alec,” a female voice said from the stable’s entrance. Lady Kaelie was standing there, as beautiful as when she welcomed them to her castle. She had loosened up her long brown hair, but kept the green strikes tied up in thin braids, as to show the drawings on her pale skin, in the Seelie Court fashion. “Supper is about to be served.”

Alec nodded. “Thank you, my lady. It was kind of you to come fetch me yourself.”

The lady giggled, covering her mouth. That made the gesture seem demure, even if her eyes were not. Alec distrusted the way Faelanders hid their meaning in every action, even if they never lied with their words. Somehow, he thought it was even worse than not telling the truth. “It is not everyday my humble palace is filled with such handsome men. I should enjoy it while it lasts, don’t you think?”

And then there was that too, the way they turned affirmations into questions. One never lied when asking questions, for question were not statements.

Jace would probably have a witty comment to make, something about the fact that they would be leaving come first light in the morning, but Alec had no patience for word games. “I shall join you for dinner as soon as I clean myself.”

“Maybe I could help you with that,” Lady Kaelie smirked, but turned her face slightly to the side, as if she meant to avoid his gaze. There was a reason the Seelie Queen had told them to seek refuge with one of her most trusted ladies on their way to the Faeland capital. Kaelie was everything a seelie lady should be and more. 

Alec was pretty sure she could fence with swords as well as she did with words. He shook his head. “That won’t be necessary.”

The lack of courtesies was definitely considered rude, but it didn’t seem to affect Lady Kaelie at all. “Your loss,” she said sweetly. “I’ll give you a minute.”

She turned around, making her skirts twirl prettily. Her dress was cut as to show off her entire back, covering only one arm. It was very different from the colorful but modest gowns women wore in Edom, and a world away from the dark tones and heavy fabric nephilim ladies preferred. Alec was sure Izzy was enjoying that fashion in the Seelie Court.

Once he was left alone with the horses, Alec sighed. He had little desire to show up for supper as he’d much rather eat by himself in the room he was given or with Jace. But it was not a possibility. He was now a knight serving the king personally, a position he had dreamed of his entire childhood until the Mortal War wrenched it away from him when he was only one-and-ten. 

The king was already calling him a Shadowhunter, a title that had died in the war. Only the fiercest and most accomplished knights received that honor, so Alec knew he had to play the part. And that entailed more than fighting in his Grace’s name and sitting on his council. It included entertaining allies with the king’s party too.

So Alec sighed again and went to find a place to wash the stable’s stench out of his skin. Even if seelie nobles appreciated nature scents, he was pretty sure that wasn’t one of them. The king was sufficiently annoyed with him after Alec had refused to kill one of the guards of his cell at first and had openly showed disapproval of the violence inflicted on the others. There was no need to aggravate him even further by being impolite. 

“We are at war, my Lord of Lightwood,” the king had said, words dripping from his mouth as venom. Fighting had always made him passionate, even when they were children in Idris’ sword field. “The enemy slayed my father as if he was a wild beast. They made our country bleed. They tore apart our most ancient houses. I shall not show them mercy nor any other weakness. And I expect the same commitment from my Shadowhunters.”

Alec had gritted his teeth at that and nodded. “Yes, your Grace.”

When they had arrived at Lady Kaelie’s lands, the king had approached Alec to assure him no harm had been done by his display of hesitation during the escape. “You were the one who came up with the plan to reunite us all, my lord. The Lightwoods have always come true in times of need, just as you did by putting that arrow on the man’s head. I will not forget that.”

And neither would Alec. But at that moment, all Alec thought of was getting ready to join Jace and the one true king of Alicante, Sebastian Morgenstern, for supper with Lady Kaelie and her ladies. His hand closed around the silver arrow hanging on his neck and Alec went inside the castle.

\---

“Alicante has declared war on all downworlder kingdoms,” Lord Stheno said tentatively, his hands shaking just slightly as he held the letter they had received. 

Magnus had to restrained himself not to roll his eyes. All five of King Asmodeus’ Masters and the High Warlock were reunited in the throne room and not one of them seemed to be nearly as affected by the words as their coward of a Master of Diplomacy. Alec’s miraculous escape was enough of a war declaration in itself, considering he had painted the symbol of his kingdom on the wall.

It was still hard to believe, yet there was no other explanation other than the fact that everything had been Alec’s plan from the start. The explosion on the Revelation Grotto, the attempt on Madzie’s life, the escape.

Alec had used his trust and stabbed him in the back with it.

Magnus shook his head. No, it wasn’t entirely true. That hadn’t been a personal attack on Magnus, although it felt like it had. Neither Magnus nor Alec were to be focused on. If Luke’s reports were true, and they must be since they were confirmed by the Seelie Queen’s letters, then the believed dead son of king Valentine was back from the dead and reuniting all of Alicante’s youth to fight under his banner.

King Sebastian had rallied Sir Jace, Death in Two, and together they had freed Sir Alec from a death sentence by his kidnappers. It sounded like the stuff of songs, a miraculous king and a brave knight saving their brother in arms. Magnus wouldn’t believe it to be true. At most, he’d consider someone was posing as Valentine’s lost son.

But that was before he’d learned the Clave had declared their support of the young king, electing Lady Isabelle Lightwood to become his queen once the fighting was done and killing the downwolder emissaries that lived in Idris. It seemed Sebastian was really alive and the Clave was willing to both marry him to their most promising member and murder anyone who opposed it.

Or so the Seelie Queen said. According to her, her own hostage, Lady Helen, was also freed, though there was no story to explain that. Not that it mattered at that point. It seemed the only leverage the Downworlder Alliance still had over the Alicante lords was scrawny Simon Lewis, still safely held by Queen Camille, who had only bothered to inform that in her letters.

Simon Lewis, and Queen Jocelyn and her daughter. However, Magnus knew better than to entertain the idea Luke would ever hurt his beloved wife and stepdaughter or deliver them to the Alliance. And the Lewis family held little power among the Clave, as their place there was a token one, given for their proximity to what had been the Fairchild family before Jocelyn married king Valentine.

So, in truth, the Alliance had nothing.

Magnus scoffed, a hollow sound. It seemed Asmodeus didn’t have to lift a finger to dismantle the Alliance after all. Alicante had done it for him. 

If there was any consolation in that whole mess was that the King of Darkness’ plans had been murdered before they propelly even began. Magnus could see the humor in it, though it didn’t make him laugh.

“I shall get the armies ready,” Lord Ammon declared at once. “One strong blow and that boy king will regret ever coming out of whatever hole he was hiding in. A few children playing with swords are no match for our soldiers.”

Lord Baal shook his head. The Master of Secrets had been the one who brought them the letters Lord Stheno was supposed to have received from the other kingdoms. He was also the one who had gathered enough information to conclude Alec’s escape had been a well thought out plan. 

Magnus wasn’t particularly fond of the man, but he recognized his efficiency. Lord Baal sighed dramatically. “We have not been able to locate king Sebastian, nor his knights. Gathering the army for an attack on an imaginary place is a waste of effort.”

“And resources,” Lady Aosoth pointed out. As Master of Coin, she would know best about that. “The demonic troops are scattered around the five kingdoms. Pulling them back would mean a waste of resources we cannot afford. It is less costly to make an a coordinated effort with Queen Camille’s bloody troops if the idea is to strike.”

“My father would approve of that,” Magnus said, barely keeping the scorn out of his voice. The king had decided not to grace the meeting with his presence, so Magnus was there to act as his ears. He didn’t have the authority to make any real decisions and whatever the council decided, it would be his duty to carry it to Asmodeus. 

Truth be told, in times of war, Magnus was just a token of the royal family power. He was expected to sit down and listen to his father and his commanders to plan Edom’s actions, as he had done when he was a mere boy. 

But he was not a boy anymore and Asmodeus was too busy sulking about his lost plan to care about reality. “What of our defenses, should an attack arise?” Magnus asked.

“An attack?” Lord Ammon exclaimed. “From whom? A boy king and his two knights?”

“Do not forget one of his knights is Jace, Death in Two.” Lady Tessa sat up straight in her chair. She had been silent since the meeting started, listening and observing, much like Magnus. “He is the best knight in the five kingdoms. The other is our own sir Alec, who is arguably second best if not just as good. Two men cannot defeat an army, but two men shouldn’t be able to escape captivity in different kingdoms and disappear into thin air. Still, here we are. I do not believe they are working alone and we know for a fact they have Alicante’s full support.”

Lord Ammon banged his hand on the table. “The support of a defeated country. Of people who are no better than slaves. We have war camps all over Alicante, we have their capital. Moral support and the love of the people don’t win wars, no matter how fantastical their champions are.”

“So Alicante cannot provide them with an army?” Magnus wanted to be sure. He had fought the blessed warriors himself and almost died a thousand times in the process. He was a decent sword fighter, even a great one by Edom’s standards, but there was no comparison when it came to nephilim training. 

“No, my prince. Their military was dismantled when the Alliance occupied the kingdom. All nephilims were sent to work on the fields or in the cities, and they were prohibited of taking on arms.” Lord Ammon sounded like someone who had made that pitch a thousand times, but he dared not refuse a question from the Prince of Darkness. “A decade has passed since a single nephilim was taught the art of war in a military facility. Lord Stheno can show you the documents that assure us there is no more blessed armies.” 

As Lord Stheno fussed about the many scrolls of documents he had made a point into bringing into the meeting, Lord Baal cocked his head to the side. “Yes. Peace treats and official records show that the Shadowhunter Academy and all its branches have been closed after the Mortal War. However, the nephilim are a warrior race. Many and more boys and girls were caught playing at swords. Captains and former militaries were locked up and executed for illegally providing training to those who seek for them. Ten years may have softened their army, but it is too little of time to change an entire culture.”

“Not to mention their devotion to the Angel’s teachings is still strong,” the High Warlock commented. Just like Magnus, he was more of a guest in the meeting rather than a proper counselor, but still his voice was heard. Any signs of the Demons was important to make decisions that would impact the entire kingdom, maybe even the continent. “Angel Raziel rewards the brave and those who fight for his cause. If the people know their rightful king is back and he has the support of their young lords and ladies, they will fight.”

Magnus nodded in agreement, though the statement set a quarrel around the room. The Masters kept talking, trying to make sense of what was happening and twist it into their own perspective.

The whole meeting was starting to annoy Magnus, even more than his father’s absence was. Magnus was angry, impossibly so. Alec had tricked him, lied to him. He had known all along the treason he was going to commit and still, he had let Magnus fall in love with him. He had been kind, and gentle, and loving. And he had been a liar.

And all for what? To make the Angel think he was good? To go back to a kingdom he didn’t even know anymore? Alec was a stupid child if he thought he could do it without waging a war. Without killing innocents and bring devastation to the very thing he wanted to go back to.

“We have yet to hear from the other kings and queens of the Alliance on what they think should be done,” the prince said, raising a hand to stop all the counselors from keep arguing. “As of now, the best we can do is send reinforcements to the war camps we have on Alicante’s lands. We don’t know where Sebastian and his dogs are hiding, but we know from where he can grow an army. What we have to do is to make sure he does not get one from there.”

The silence that met his words was heavy with knowledge. What Magnus was doing was not within the spectrum of his duty. He lacked the authority to command his father’s Masters and order the future of the country. 

Still, nobody seemed ready to refuse him. Magnus went on. “Lord Baal, I want you to gather as much as you can about the situation in Alicante. Lord Ammon, send all the troops we can spare to the war camps. I want Lord Ragnor to head the efforts to reinforce them. Lady Aosoth, we need our treasure to be focused on the war efforts. Make it happen. I will write to the other Kings and Queens to arrange a meeting at the Alliance’s headquarters. Lady Tessa, I give you the king’s justice to oversee as I tend to these pressing matters. We will shatter this little kids play before it becomes a serious issue and we will get the hostages back, so they can be executed for insubordination.”

If Alec thought Magnus was the best of all men, then Magnus would prove him he could also be the worst.

\---

King Sebastian sat besides the Seelie Queen, looking every bit as royal as she did. He had been covered in black leather and furs and a golden crown laid over his pale yellow hair like a thousand stars had been sent from the Angel himself to bless him. He was a handsome man, with high cheekbones and light colors, but for his eyes. They were dark green, almost black in every light. 

They unsettled Alec, though he had no idea why. As he kneeled to his king, all Alec thought of was that Sebastian’s smile never touched his eyes. They didn’t seem to sparkle with anything, not the Seelie Queen’s attention, not even when Isabelle made him laugh with a witty quip. 

No. Alec had seen them sparkle once, when Sebastian looked at the guard he had beaten to death. Or maybe it was just the light of the torch Jace was holding. It was probably that.

“My lords and ladies, thank you for this most warm welcome,” the king said, gesturing for everyone that was standing in the throne room. “Shall we begin?” he asked, a prideful smirk on his thin lips.

A loud cheer was heard through the ones presents as the Seelie Queen nodded. It was impressively loud, considering where they were. The Seelie Court was held in a gigantic palace, one that had taken Alec’s breathe away when they saw it. The throne room was much bigger than any room Alec had ever seen and part of it even got lost into a forest. Dozens of flights of stairs went in and out the court, leading to the palace’s inside and gardens, some even beneath the ground. 

Alec didn’t have much time to explore it, though. As soon as their small entourage arrived, Isabelle swiped Jace and him away to the wing that was given for the nephilim nobility. She wanted to make sure they were unharmed and safe, but also she had to dress them properly. 

The Parabatai Ceremony was a sacred event and they had to look the part. 

Only two Shadowhunters in every generation were elevated to that honor, to serve and protect the king as brothers in arms. Alec and Jace had dreamed of it since the first time they were allowed to hold a sword. They had trained day and night so, once Sebastian ascended to the throne, they would be the ones named to protect him. 

Sebastian had promised he would appoint them and, a decade later, he was fulfilling that promise. The three little boys Hodge had taught how to fight were now rising to their destiny. 

Jace smiled from his side and Alec could feel the rush of excitement running through him. They both had bathed in the sacred scents of the angels and dressed in black, the color of nephilims. The ceremony was held at the last light of the day, so the Angel and his holy companions could see it. 

It was time.

“I, king Sebastian Morgenstern, rightful lord of the kingdom of Alicante, blessed by the Angel Raziel in all his wisdom” Sebastian stood up and declared in a solemn voice, “call upon Lord Alexander Gideon Lightwood and Lord Jonathan Christopher Herondale, the bravest and most talented men in all the lands.”

“We answer your call, your blessed Grace,” Alec and Jace said in unison, their voices joining into one in the silence of the room.

The king nodded and raised a hand, gesturing for Isabelle to approach. As future queen and sister to one of the nominees, she had been entrusted with the duty of carrying the Parabatai insignia that would mark both Jace and Alec. 

Smiling, Isabelle did as commanded. Alec had been right; she had taken into the seelie fashion smoothly, adapting her attire to what the ladies wore down in the south but without losing a taste from home. Isabelle had opted for a black dress with see-through sleeves and an intricate pattern of golden metal on her waist, to show off her engagement. Alec thought she looked more beautiful than even the Seelie Queen, though no one would dare say those words out loud while still in the court. 

Sebastian smiled gently to his bride and turned back to Alec and Jace. “Do you swear to obey your king's commands, to keep his secrets, to counsel him when counsel is requested and to keep silent when it is not, to serve his pleasure and defend his name and honor?”

It was just like the songs made it seem. It didn’t matter that they were not in Idris, that this was not their home. Jace and Alec were Shadowhunters and they had been chosen by their king. In that moment, all the deception and treachery disappeared to make away to glory.

The ceremony not only granted them the highest title a nephilim could receive, but it was also the first official act of King Sebastian as the royal leader of Alicante. Only a king or a queen could entrust upon a pair of Shadowhunters the honor of serving as Parabatai, for only they had the Angel’s leave to claim personal protection of His children. Most nephilim considered the Parabatai ceremony more important than the coronation itself.

Both Alec and Jace nodded sharply, one single gesture done in perfect unison. “We swear.”

The king nodded again. “And do you swear to uphold tradition, to fight for Alicante and for the Angel’s teachings, to defeat His enemies and to protect the nephilim?”

“We swear,” they said again. 

“And do you swear to always be true, to yourselves and to each other, to defend and protect each other, to love one another and to fight side by side like brothers in everything but blood?”

Jace smiled brightly, a break of protocol, but Alec couldn’t chastise him, since he was smiling too. “We swear, your blessed Grace.”

Sebastian smiled as well, and the gesture was just as improper and satisfying as theirs. He moved both of his hands largely at them. “You have kneeled as Shadowhunter. Now rise as Parabatai.”

They did, and Alec inhaled sharply when the king approached him to pin the Parabatai rune on his chest. His was the silver one, for the moon and the night. Jace would received the gold one, for the sun and the day. The choice suited them.

But as the king touched Alec’s chest, he felt the arrow pendant that was hidden beneath his clothes and frowned. Sebastian’s dark eyes found Alec’s, but he found nothing in the hazel globes to be alarmed of, so he just shrugged and pinned the insignia a little to the left, over Alec’s heart.

Good thing his fingers didn’t linger long, otherwise Sebastian would have been able to feel Alec’s hastily heartbeat. He had forgotten about the pendant at all, since he had grown so used to always wearing it. It was probably improper to be bearing an Edomian symbol to a nephilim ceremony, but it was done now and Alec couldn’t change it.

As king Sebastian had moved on to Jace, Alec tried to focus on them instead of letting his mind slip into thinking of Magnus again. It would amount for nothing good anyway, just to deepen the sorrow he felt. So Alec observed how Jace was beaming in pride, his entire posture moving accordingly to the king’s. 

It had always been like that, since they were children. When Alec was a boy, he had been jealous of the way Jace would always seek for Sebastian’s attention, always trying to win his approval. Jace had been sent to be fostered by the Lightwoods, so Alec was the one supposed to be his example to follow, not the prince. 

However, Robert was Parabatai, so his family lived at the castle and that meant living with the king and his children. Sebastian was an exceptional fighter from an early age, not to mention he was almost two years older than Alec. It was easy to see why Jace would look up to him, being himself blessed by the Angel too. Alec could do little more than try and keep up with them.

A decade had passed, but just seeing them made Alec feel a little left out. It was an absurd feeling and something he was ashamed of. Jace was as close to him as a brother, even more so since Alec knew little Max only by letters. The love Jace bored for their king was the same Alec felt too, and it was different from the love they shared.

Still, there was something on the easy way Sebastian made Jace nod and vow his unconditional loyalty that bothered Alec. He wasn’t sure of what, but somehow that kind of devotion felt like it should be met halfway. And Alec thought it wasn’t, at least not by their king’s part.

Sebastian turned to the crowd once he was done, at the same time Alec and Jace grabbed each other’s arms, locking the solemn gesture that marked them as one. In that moment, nothing else mattered. They were both their current and their past selves, looking into the future in each other’s eyes. 

“We’ve made it,” Jace mouthed triumphantly as Sebastian finished the ceremony with his own oath as king of Alicante.

Alec nodded. “We did.”

The rest of the night turned into a blur after that. Alec remember vaguely that Sebastian had insisted in making a toast in his honor, and then another in Jace’s. The three of them talked the entire time during the feast the Queen had offered them, with Isabelle sat right there with them. Although talking wasn’t so much as Alec would put it, since he preferred to just listen and enjoy the food. 

Finally, Sebastian had grew bored of eating and had taken Isabelle for a dance. Lady Kaelie materialized herself in front of Jace, and soon they joined the other pairs. Many of them were already valsing, in the quirky way the seelies were so fond of, with too much touching and little space between the bodies. There was a grace to it that Alec didn’t understand, so he slipped away to the gardens before one of the ladies that were eyeing him could work up the courage to ask him for a dance.

In Faeland, women were incentive to do it just as much as men. Alec found that extremely dangerous. It wasn’t rude not to ask a lady to dance, but to refuse one? That was a high offense.

Outside the courtroom, Alec felt a little safer. He saw Meliorn, the Knight of Leafs, talking to some pretty warrior in full armor. Judging by their proximity, it was best to stay away. Alec wasn’t too keen in interrupting whatever they were talking about, be it military matters or some intense kind of flirting.

“He has been flocking around her since we’ve arrived from Alicante,” Isabelle’s voice sounded from behind Alec and when he turned to her, he saw that she was looking at Meliorn too. “The gallant fool did it even back home, but now he pretends it’s about some serious war issue he won’t talk about.” Isabelle sighed and crossed her arm with Alec’s. “As if I couldn’t pry it out of him if I really wanted to.”

Alec arched an eyebrow. “I take it the affair with Meliorn is over.”

“Oh, yes.” Isabelle nodded cheekily. “I ended it after the tourney.”

“Turning over a new leaf?” Alec smirked and guided her away from the couple. 

Snorting, Isabelle shrugged. “If you can do so about our beloved king, yes. It was hardly proper for the future queen to continue an affair with a seelie knight while her husband-to-be fights in a war to give her back her home.”

“That is a very pretty way to put it,” Alec said. “Is that how the song about this whole war is going to start?”

“I don’t know about a song, but it was certainly what Sebastian said when he pitched our engagement for mom and dad. I don’t think the drama was necessary, but they were dutifully charmed.” Isabelle stopped them by one of the many artificial lakes in the garden and picked a spot to sit down. “Their perfect boy as parabatai, their little girl as queen, and they still get to keep their baby to raise to their liking. The Mortal War wouldn’t have worked better for them if they had tried to make a profit out of it.”

Alec nodded, though he wasn’t sure his mother hadn’t tried to profit out of the war at all. It sounded just like something she would do. “And how is Max?”

“Eager to finally meet you. He hasn’t talked about anything else since he learned you’d be coming home.” Isabelle pushed her lips together. “I’m glad that is the only thing he knows, though. Idris is still full of downworlders, any one of them could hear him.”

“As if mom and dad would ever let him near a downworlder.” Alec sighed. In all his letters, Max had talked about how he loved playing around the Lightwood palace, but it seemed there was the only place he ever knew. Maryse and Robert probably had him surrounded by nephilim servants and had kept him as far away as possible from any downworlder emissaries that went to see them. 

The only good thing about that was that at least Max wouldn’t break anyone’s heart now that a war was about to begin. Not like Alec had done. “Have you heard from Clary?”

Isabelle nodded. “She is fine, Luke made sure of it. She and her mother were sent to an enclosed castle after the She-Wolf Maia tried to get a hold of them. My guess is that Luke wants to make sure no enraged alphas would try to follow that example. You know how their system works, anyone could become Alpha Major if they prove themselves better suited for leadership. Luke will have his hands full dealing with an internal crisis.”

That didn’t make Alec happy in the slightest. Shadowhunter Lucian Graymark was one of his heroes as Alec grew up, and he continued to look up to him even after Luke changed his name and loyalty. He didn’t wish for any harm to fall upon him, but Alec had to admit that having the Alpha Major’s attention divided in fighting a two-front battle was a huge advantage for them.

“I haven’t heard from Simon,” Isabelle said eventually. Her voice was sad and serious, but mostly worried. For some reason, she had always been fond of the boy, even when they were children. Izzy hadn’t agreed to marry Sebastian and become queen for any romantic love for the man; that she harbored for scrawny, intelligent Simon, who had no talent for war, but made her laugh. 

Alec pushed his lips together and grabbed his sister’s hand. “I know it’s hard, but we have to believe he won’t be harmed. They will win no victory in executing a single hostage, especially one like Simon. All it would earn the Alliance is the contempt of the people, ours and theirs. We have to believe he is safer there than he would be trying to escape Vampatria on his own.”

Isabelle sighed and leaned her head on her brother’s shoulder. “It is a bitter thing, to depend on the enemy’s kindness not to lose our friend.”

“We won’t lose him.” Alec squeezed her hand. “We’ll get him back, Clary too. I promise.”

“I know, big brother.” Isabelle smiled a little at him, half confident, half tired. “We will all go back home this time. I won’t have to cross that road alone anymore.”

They stayed in silence for a few moments, watching the night sky and the pretty lights of the garden. Faeland was famous for its trixie-flies, whose own lights danced in the night air. The Seelie Court had thousands upon thousands of them and the small insects flew in groups, making patterns in the black sky that were shaped and colored by the energy of the moment.

At that moment, they glimmered in the red and yellow of the Lightwood’s flames of their coat of arms, burning around the siblings like heavenly fire. It made Alec think of something he had been trying hard to forget. Or rather, someone.

“Any news from the Alliance?” He asked eventually, trying to sound casual.

He didn’t fool neither Isabelle, nor the trixie-flies. Some of them still glimmered in red, but a darker version of the one before, but the yellow ones were now gold. Alec was suddenly reminded of Magnus’ cat-eyes pendant.

His sister threw him a knowing look, which was much worse than the insects’ colorful dance. “None of the Kings and Queens have sent any letters responding to the war declaration, but there was some movement spotted on their troops. They say Vampatria has closed in itself, which is very believable considering no word comes from there. Luke is busy protecting his family. And Edom… The Prince of Darkness has summoned an urgent Alliance meeting. My informants believe he will be our greatest foe.”

Alec had no doubts of that. He swallowed hard and touched the parabatai rune on his chest, feeling the sharp edges prickle on his skin. That was the symbol of the side he had chosen to fight for.

His fingers moved, stopping on the shape of the arrow that laid against his chest. That was the symbol of the place where he had left his heart behind. 

And there was no coming back from that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next on: war. death. sadness. Or, how I call it "all would be resolved if they sat down and talked"
> 
> This is going to be fun :)
> 
> My deepest and mostsincere thanks to [QueenCow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenCow/pseuds/QueenCow) for betaing, supporting me and forever changing the accent in which I write this thing. All three things of equally importance. 
> 
> I'm on [Tumblr](http://sweetillusionketz.tumblr.com/) and on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/Ketz_CML/). Kudos and comments are always appreciated! I'll be tracking #adop on twitter, if anyone feels like live-tweeting :)
> 
> Ketz


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today is cloudy and rainy and altogether not a pretty day here where I live.  
> Perfect aesthetic for this update, I might say.
> 
> Enjoy :D 
> 
> Warning: Shocking scenes where Camille is almost reasonable and Magnus is not.

The road to Downworlder City had been bumpy if not uneventful, and Magnus was glad he hadn’t ridden a horse all the way up to the north of Edom. At first, Lord Ammon had protested, saying it was unbefitting of men to travel in carriages, for those were for the women, or for those too young or too old to ride on their own.

“Only sick men travel by carriages,” the Master of War concluded his argument when he saw the carriage ready and waiting for them.

Lord Baal had rolled his eyes and stepped up the stairs that lead inside. “I believe, then, that the carriage is the perfect spot for me. This entire conversation is making me nauseous.”

He had walked into the carriage without giving Ammon a chance to respond. Magnus had smiled despite himself and added, just to appease the other lord’s fury. “My Lord Ammon is more than welcome to ride. I shall join Lord Baal for now, for there are matters still to be discussed, but do remind me tomorrow to accompany you for a while. Or any other of this four day trip up north.”

There was no reminder, of course, but still Magnus played his role and rode with both lords whenever he felt like it. That meant fewer times with Lord Ammon than the man would like, but Magnus had no intentions on having to sit by his side every night as they dined. 

Magnus preferred having issues sitting after a completely different kind of ride.

Besides, he had been having problems sleeping as it was. Magnus didn’t need the pains of traveling by horse keeping him awake at night. Lord Baal and him shared the royal carriage for long enough that the Master of Secrets had for sure witness Magnus’ restlessness whenever he drifted into a dream or two during the day. It wouldn’t be difficult for him to add that with the dark circles under the prince’s eyes and deduce what was happening.

He had been kind enough not to say anything and Magnus appreciated it. They arrived at Downworlder city on the day the meeting was set to happen and Magnus could really do with more people focusing on the real issues at stake rather than his sleep pattern.

“Queen Camille arrived yesterday night,” Lord Baal informed Magnus as soon as they stopped for an early lunch at the royal palace. The castle was divided in four fronts, one for each king or queen and their entourage. Much like the city itself, the four downworlder realms were everywhere in the palace’s decorations. “And the Alpha Major got here before that. The Seelie Queen is on her way as we speak. Another hour or two away.”

Magnus had no idea what kind of dark magic Baal practiced in order to know everything, but he had a suspicion it had something to do with the beggars the lord kept distributing money to left and right. “So we have time to prepare. Who will be in the meeting with us?”

“The Seelie Queen is traveling with the Lady Kaelie and other faeries, along with the Knight of Leafs. Queen Camille brought the Undead Raphael and a few of her puppets. Sir Alaric was seen entering the city this very morning.” Baal sipped on his wine. “The Alpha Major has his wife and daughter hidden in his wing, I hear. They were snuck in during the night. Should I send Lord Ammon to fetch them?”

Shaking his head, Magnus played with his food. He hadn’t been feeling very hungry. “Too blunt. Things are already bad as they are without us turning on each other. Speaking of which, any news of Simon Lewis’ whereabouts?”

“None as of yet, but I have my creatures looking into it. If the boy is in the city, I will know within the hour.”

“Keep me informed,” Magnus said with a sigh. He forced a chunk of meat down his throat though Magnus knew no amount of food could fill him as much as his rage did.

Especially when he saw the Queen of the Night pass by the gardens, hiding herself from the light with the help of a laced sunshade. Raphael walked with her, carrying a sunshade of his own, though his was much less refined, as befitted a man of faith. Behind them, three blood maidens followed suit in silence.

Magnus gritted his teeth. “Find out where she is keeping the boy and find out where Luke is keeping his family exactly. I want to have a discreet word with Princess Clary.” He got up and left his entourage, barely making it to the gardens without running. 

One of the perks of being involved in the design and construction of the Downworlder Palace was that Magnus knew very well where every turn and corridor lead to. He intercepted Camille by the end of the inner garden, blocking the path to the comforting shadow.

Not a courteous thing to do to a vamp, forcing them to remain in the sun, but Magnus was done playing courteous with her. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“My prince,” Queen Camille exclaimed, with only a hint of annoyance in her voice. “A tad too sunny for my taste.”

Magnus cocked his head to the side. “There are still a few clouds in the sky. Not many, though.”

Camille nodded, eyes narrowing as Magnus refused to move. “Definitely not enough clouds.”

Raphael watched the scene with serious eyes, his jaw gritted. There was nothing happy about him, even less than usual. Whatever Camille and him were talking about, the Undead had not been pleased. 

That was something for be examined later on. “Have you eaten already, darling? I’m sure you don’t want to start the meeting on empty stomach. Just an empty heart.”

“Raphael,” the queen hissed, “please carry on. The Prince of Darkness and I have a few urgent things to discuss in private.”

The Undead looked even more displeased, but he nodded after narrowing his eyes at Magnus disapprovingly. He bowed to them and walked away, probably to the nearest shade he could find. The three blood maidens stayed and Magnus recognized one of them as being part of the gift Camille had given his father during the tourney.

Anger flashed in Magnus’ chest. “Dismiss your ladies. What I have to say is not for their ears to listen.”

The Queen lifted her chin slightly, obviously affronted by being ordered around. Her gloved hands squeezed the sunshade’s shaft. “It is not proper for a highborn lady to be unaccompanied in the presence of men.”

“Oh, but I’m not just any man.” Magnus didn’t bother keeping the poison out of his voice. “I’m your husband-to-be.”

That, and the sunlight, drove Camille to the edge. “Fine.” She turned to the girls and gestured for them to go. When they were alone, the queen sighed in annoyance. “Happy now?”

Magnus moved, letting her step into the shade. “Exulted.” He guided them both to a room where they should have as much privacy as one could expect. 

Camille threw the sunshade over a table and started peeling off her gloves. “Before you start complaining, the betrothal is clearly over. It was your father’s idea anyway.”

“Funny,” Magnus said, closing his arms against his chest and standing as far away from her as physically possible. “That is not how I heard it. According to my father, betraying the Alliance and destroying the trust between the downworlders were all your ideas. You only went to him because you needed Edom, otherwise we’d be thrown in the mix as well.”

“Is that what this is about?” Camille arched an eyebrow at him. “None of that matters anymore, dearest. Our little investment is over for as long as little king Sebastian is there breaking havoc.”

Her cynicism was more than Magnus could bare in silence. Since when has Camille been that false, that selfish? That was not his childhood friend, that pretty and gentle lady that listened to Magnus’ cries and helped him become a decent man despite Asmodeus’ cruelty.

“What you call investment, I call a pointless war. How many innocents are you willing to murder in order to increase your power?”

Whatever reaction Magnus was expecting, the disdainful laugh he received was not it. But the Queen wasn’t done. “Innocents? Who are you talking about, darling, the people or your beloved knight? I bid you not to lash out on me the anger you’re feeling towards him.”

The words were like knives, but Magnus was numbed to pain by then. “He is no innocent. In fact, Alexander is no better than you. He too betrayed the Alliance. He too is starting a war that will result in the loss of lives and for what? Greed. Lust for power.”

Camille rolled her eyes at him, and there wasn’t a shade of regret in her. “Oh, you’re so virtuous, Magnus. So much better than us, evil schemers. One would never imagined these words were coming from the same man who was fucking a hostage. But oh, no. The good Prince of Darkness would never put the Alliance at risk.” She sneered. “Except when his cock is involved, that is.”

Magnus winced at that blow, but it didn’t withered his resolve. "I loved him. I still do, despite of all the pain loving him brings."

"So you fell in love with him. Good for you.” Camille stared right at him, her eyes cold and vicious. “Your love didn't protect him when he was arrested without any proof of guilt and sentenced to death. Your love wouldn't have saved him from having his head offed from his body. Your love wouldn't give him his home back, nor his family. You weren't being kind to him by saying some pretty words and letting him suck you.” Her voice turned into a whisper, as if she was a demon herself. One who tormented people with the truth. “If anything, your love made it easier to use him to hurt you. Which is something sweet Alec should be more than accustomed to, considering his entire existence was resumed into being a tool to force those he loves into submission."

Camille hadn’t only left Magnus at a loss of words; all she said made it difficult to breathe too. It was harsh and even cruel, but that didn’t make anything she said any less true. Magnus had been so adamant in searching for the one guilty of the pain inside his chest, he never looked at the mirror to find the one who was really to blame for it.

He shook his head slightly, his voice failing him. “I never meant to hurt him.”

Sighing, Camille stepped closer and laid a hand on his arm, squeezing it a little. It was a gentle gesture, one that put an end to the accusations. “I know, dearest. You have a kind heart. But I hope you do now, for the nephilim are coming to hurt us.”

She was right, of course. They had a meeting to attend specifically to sort out an unified plan to end king Sebastian’s aspirations to ever recover his throne. It was an ugly thing, made of adamante and shaped to have wings in the place of arm holders. The Seelie Queen had called for its destruction when the Mortal War was over, but Luke had vetoed it. Said it was a gift from the Angel himself. Now the throne remained at the center of Idris, empty and dusty.

Magnus was very keen in maintaining it that way.

“Come on,” Camille purred with a smirk on her lips. “The sooner we get this over with, the better. I do hate this place.”

Humming nonchalantly, Magnus just nodded and let her guide them to their meeting. Usually, he’d offer her his arm, but for some reason Magnus didn’t feel like doing so. Camille had been right about Magnus’ selfishness, but that didn’t mean she was right about the rest. 

The meeting room was located in the center of palace, in the interception of the four wings. It was big enough to be considered a throne room and, in fact, there were four thrones distributed in a cross formation. Besides each throne, there were also chairs for the royal advisors. Magnus remembering he had designed it so that everyone would be able to see and hear the others. 

It had been a beautiful gift that his father had given him; to put Magnus in charge of the construction of the Downworlder Palace. Magnus wondered if the king ever thought it was there that Magnus would openly start ruling in his place, not only his name. 

Luke was already occupying the Lukos’ throne as he talked in a rushed tone with Sir Alaric. They clearly hadn’t been discussing amenities as they both stopped talking as soon as Magnus and Camille walked in. The Queen of the Night winked at them cheekily and went to her throne, where Raphael was waiting for her. At least now he just looked bored. 

Alongside him, the seven lords and ladies that would one day compete for the throne of Vampatria stood silently, making their best to look dead. One of them was doing a remarkable job; a young lady with black hair, died out with blue strikes and empty triangular shaped eyes. Lady Lily, if Magnus remembered right.

“Your highness.” Lord Baal bowed as the prince took his father’s seat and stopped thinking of Vampatria’s weird inheritance methods. Lord Ammon were already there as well, drinking and looking uncomfortable as he did in anywhere that wasn’t a battlefield. 

Though the room was certainly about to hold a sort of battle of its own. Magnus leaned over his Master of Secrets. “Anything I should know about before we start?”

“Red is such an unique shade for hair. Wouldn’t you say so, my prince?” Lord Baal smiled lazily. “Easy to spot, especially from the streets of the city. There are rumors of a red haired ladies gracing the far east chambers of Lukos’ wing with their beauty.”

Nodding, Magnus laid his chin over his hand. It was good that Lady Maia had attempted to get to Clary and her mother, otherwise Luke would have left them in the safety of his castle and Magnus would never be able to see them. This way, the Fray women were within his reach.

Luke cleared his throat. “The Seelie Queen has entered the city gates.” He dismissed the servant that had brought him this news with a thanks and a gesture. “She says she’ll be joining us at any moment.”

“I would rather not wait for her pleasure,” Camille said. “She had a week to arrive and we have urgent matters to discuss. Prince Magnus has reinforced some of our camps in Alicante, but that is not enough. I say we should attack.”

Lord Ammon nodded fiercely and so did Sir Alaric, but Luke didn’t seem impressed. “Attack who, your Majesty? Where? We have no way of knowing where Sebastian is and we have the best spies scattered around the five kingdoms.”

“That we do,” Lord Baal agreed without a hint of modesty.

It made Magnus snort, but he controlled himself as Luke kept talking. “If Sebastian is half the man his father was, the best thing we can hope to do is to keep him away from the nephilims. He will forge an army from grass if people see him as Valentine’s heir. As of now, he has a handful of lordlings following him. We have to keep it this way.”

Magnus nodded in agreement. “Alicante is weak, they have no organized army, no defenses whatsoever. Any attack there would result in a massacre. However, it is not because the population has been forced to work on the fields or in the cities that they have forgotten their martial ways. Before the war, every man and woman had a soldier’s training. Separated and controlled, they don’t represent a danger to us, but if they have someone to rally behind, we could be looking at another Mortal War in the making.”

“Not only one person, my prince,” Lord Baal added gently. “Because of the tourneys, Sir Alec and Sir Jace are wildly adored by the people throughout the five kingdoms. Lady Isabelle has inspired many songs, both for her beauty and her wit. Lady Helen has made many friends, high and low born. Even Simon has won the love of many. I beg your pardon, but it was a mistake to parade them as prizes every two years. It is harder to spy if the smallfolk is protecting their idols.”

“Maybe the smallfolk love them, but we have our own people’s champions as well,” Camille pointed out, looking straight at Magnus. “One call from the Prince of Hell and armies will descend on them with the fury of Demons. Our own Alpha Major is a hero of so many love songs and the legendary foe of the tyrant king Valentine. I can start more rumors of a new marriage, that is always popular. If the people are the problem, let our singers tell them who they should be rooting for. Make Valentine’s crimes resurface, remind everyone that he drove his own queen away with his cruelty even before he started a war for greed. That is Sebastian’s legacy. Paint the son with the colors of the father.”

This could work. The more averse people were of Sebastian, the easier it would be to locate him. Hope and faith were required to fuel a revolt, so if they could sabotage both, there would be no real battles to fight. Once the Morgenstern line was truly dead, the Alliance would be truly unchallengeable. 

The question was what to do with the remaining oppositors, but Magnus would figure out Alec’s and the others’ fates once he had defeated their little king. Isabelle could be married off to a handsome weak lordling in Lukos’ countryside, Jace could be exiled beyond the sea and Alec… Magnus toyed with the idea of shipping him off to the Unseelie Island. And ignored how much the mere thought of that made his heart cry.

“Meanwhile,” the Alpha Major continued, yanking Magnus out of his misery, “we should think of ways to fortify our defenses. Starting with the camps in Alicante.”

“You have no idea how right you are,” a new voice called. The Seelie Queen had arrived, followed closely by Lady Kaelie. The Knight of Leafs were nowhere to be seen. 

Camille arched an eyebrow at her. “It’s so good for you to finally join us.”

The other queen didn’t acknowledge the dagger in the words. “I would’ve come sooner, but I received grievous words that detained me. Our gallant Alpha Major is correct when he says the camps should be a priority.” She crossed the room to reach her own seat. “I just dispatched Sir Meliorn to gather what is left of my army and move it to the Wild Hunt.”

Each military camp was under the administration of a king or queen of the Alliance and had been named according to their will. Magnus had never been to the one his father was supposed to control and he usually let the matters regarding Pandemonium in the hands of Lord Ammon. Magnus had no taste for the kind of things that happened there, and he knew the crystals they important from Alicante weren’t obtained with light labour, but sometimes it best not to think of such things.

Camille’s the Bleeding was known to be the worst of the camps, where the rebellious nephilims were sent to be broken into passiveness, though the Moon’s Tears was the largest. It was Luke’s camp that hosted the Iron Sisters, the only ones in the entire world capable of bending the adamante into weapons. His own sister, Lady Cleophas, was their leader and for all that Magnus knew, their relationship had deteriorated through the years as the order refused to forge weapons to the Alliance even as the mines of adamante were drained of the untempered metal.

“What do you by ‘what is left of the army’?” Luke asked somberly. 

The Seelie Queen narrowed her eyes at him. “What I mean by that is that the camp was attacked by king Sebastian and his knights. General Gwyn ap Nudd just sent word of the result of the battle. It seems they came during the night, striking hard and relentlessly. The Wild Hunt has fallen into king Sebastian’s hands.”

There was an uproar all around the meeting room, where all kinds of reactions erupted at once, but Magnus barely heard any of them.

The Wild Hunt was the smallest of the camps, and the one that dealt with the food the nephilims produced. Alicante was a blessed land, so they had a huge production of cereal and meat. That production had been channeled to the downworlder kingdoms and since then the hunger in the south had moved up north. It was essential that it kept that way, so there was where Magnus had sent Ragnor first. Magnus swallowed hard.

He had sent his oldest friend straight into the enemy’s claws.

\---

The Wild Hunt was mostly a Seelie camp, so when they arrived, General Gwyn ap Nudd had already let his men know not to fight them. All they had to do was to defeat the other downworlder forces and there weren’t many to begin with.

Although, Alec had been surprised to see Lord Ragnor there, he was glad he hadn’t fought him directly, as the tactic he proposed to Sebastian was for the Parabatai to strike first on the Lukecian forces, as they were usually the harder to fall. Having the element of surprise would subdue their superior strength. So that was where Alec and Jace fought, just them against a contingent of twenty feral warriors.

Sebastian and his men dealt with the bloody troops and the demonic soldiers. No seelie weapon was drawn during the entire ordeal, as the king had promised the Seelie Queen. The fighting was done as quickly as it started.

It had been Commander Aldertree who had defeated Ragnor’s men and captured him. From what Alec had been told, it was been an easy feat. Ragnor killed almost all of Aldertree’s men before the blood loss from his wounds stopped him. He had been taken to where the other survivors high ranked officers were, although there weren’t many.

Alec had been injured in the fight as well, but not nearly was gravely. Just a scratch on his torso, but one he ought to bathe in holy water nonetheless or it could get infected. So that was what he’d been doing when Jace found him in the medical tent.

“That was an easy victory,” he said with a huge grin on his lips. The fighting brightened every ounce of Jace’s being and he had never been as lethal as on that day. 

“Easy for you. I was the one doing all the work.” Alec rolled his eyes. The Seelie soldiers that had witnessed the Parabatai attack had stayed out of their way, but also had placed bets on their kills and those who thought Alec would kill more than Jace were the winners. Faefolk had a quirk view on death. 

Jace didn’t seem to mind. “You fight like it’s your duty. I do it like it’s art. That is why it’s called the art of war.”

Making a face, Alec finished cleaning his wound. “The art of war is about battle strategies and warfare. Not the actual killing. You waste too much energy on making it look pretty when it’s not.”

Annoyance flashed on Jace’s face. “I’m not the one who got hurt.” He rolled his eyes but shrugged. “Come on. Sebastian wants his Parabatais at the royal tent. He’s overseeing the spoils of this conquest.”

Taking the Wild Hunt was hardly any conquest when the majority of its guards just passively watched the fight. At least they had freed half a hundred nephilims from the camp’s prisons. The rest had pledged their loyalty to king Sebastian by joining in the fight with whatever tools they could find. 

“I just need to dress myself.” Alec grabbed a piece of fabric to dry the holy water from his torso before spreading some healing ointment over the cut. It made the pain go away. 

Jace grabbed the shirt Alec had discarded and threw it to him. When Alec turned to catch it, though, Jace frowned. “What in the name of the Angel is that?”

Alec didn’t have to look down to know Jace was pointing at his arrow pendant. He shrugged, nonchalantly. “Jewelry.”

“Obviously. But you don’t wear jewelry.”

“I wear this one,” Alec answered drily. This conversation was wearing him out even more than the fighting.

“Clearly.” Jace raised an eyebrow at him. “Who gave it to you? Izzy?”

Swallowing hard, Alec avoided Jace’s suspicious gaze by busying himself with the shirt. “No. It wasn’t her.”  
It didn’t take Jace too long to figure out the reason why Alec was being so secretive. When he did, the confusion gave place to anger. Jace gritted his teeth, hands closing into fists. “I cannot believe you would bring a gift from the Prince of Hell to the battlefield. I don’t care what your feelings towards him are, we were fighting for our kingdom. For our king! He is our enemy now.”

Alec sighed. “It’s just a necklace, Jace.”

“No, it isn’t.” Jace shook his head. “It’s a symbol. A promise. It bonds you to him. Just like this,” he touched the Parabatai insignia on his jacket, “bonds you to me.”

“Believe me, those are very different types of bonds.” Alec finished getting ready and stepped outside the medical tent. “If it bothers you so much, I won’t wear it anymore. Would that please you, Lord Jonathan?”

Jace narrowed his eyes at him, not believing on the empty promise for a second. “You don’t get it.” He shook his head and passed by Alec, still every bit as angry. “Let’s just go. Sebastian is waiting.”

Alec rolled his eyes. “The Angel forbid we waste our king’s precious time by squabbling over petty matters.”

No answer came to that, which might just be even worse than if Jace had kept the fight going. They crossed the camp in silence, arriving at the biggest of the tents, a monstrosity where the Seelie commanders held their strategical meetings. It was only smaller than the castle were high ranked officials stayed for the night.

Inside the tent, Sebastian looked over maps, listening to Commander Gwyn as the faelander explained the paths they used to take the food down south. Commander Aldertree watched the scene in silence while Isabelle sat aside, half listening, half enjoying a cup of tea with Lady Helen and Lady Aline. 

Lady Lydia welcomed them at the tent’s entrance. “Your Grace, the Parabatais are here,” she announced, flashing a smile towards Alec that was only a quarter flirtatious, but entirely sincere. 

Ever since the youth of Alicante had gathered at the Seelie court, there had been a change in attitude. With Jace’s love for Princess Clary well known throughout the social circles, the nephilim ladies had settled their eyes on Alec. Lady Lydia had been kind enough to explain so to him after two days of some very confusing conversations as they marched up north.

It seemed not even Isabelle’s courteous discouragement had stopped the other ladies from trying their luck. That night, when Alec complained about it Jace and Sebastian, his Parabatai offered him a sympathetic glance while the king laughed and told Alec to enjoy being a free man.

Sebastian wasn’t smiling now. He acknowledged Alec and Jace with a nod and indicated for them to join them at the central table. Commander Gwyn bowed to him and excused himself, leaving only the nephilim to plot their next moves.

“There is a great quantity of food stored here,” the king said, bringing out the map of the Wild Hunt camp. “We will need some of it for the army as we advance on the other camps, but I want the rest to be sent to the villagers throughout Alicante. Not a grain of rice will touch downworlder lips anymore. Lord Alec, Lord Jace; your valiantly has put an end to the systematic stealing of our food.”

Isabelle’s ladies cheered and the future queen smirked at the boys, lifting a biscuit. It was half a mockery, but it didn’t fail to make Alec smile.

“It was your Grace’s bravery that gave us the victory,” Jace said and the praising sound foreign in his voice.

It didn’t matter to Sebastian, who rewarded it with a gracious smile. “A joint effort, just like the many times we stole food from the kitchens.” 

Not the analogy Alec would do, but he wasn’t going to contradict the king. “What of the prisoners, your Grace?”

Sebastian shifted to his kingly persona and looked to Aldertree. The Commander cleared his throat. “We had three vamps, but unfortunately they killed themselves, in the manner vampatrian often do when captured. There was nothing we could do about it.”

“Cowards,” Sebastian cursed under his breathe. Even when he was just an young prince, he had hated the downworlders, something king Valentine often praised in the rare occasions he’d see the boys during their lessons. The hatred had grown into something stronger with time and after king Valentine was killed, it was no surprise Sebastian’s little regard for downworlder costumes turned into loathing. “Who else?”

“The Parabatais killed all the Lukenians and there was only a handful of Edomians, your Grace.” Aldertree made it look like Alec and Jace had been incompetents in their attack, but nothing on Sebastian’s face gave signs that he had either cared or agreed with it. “I managed to capture Lord Ragnor Fell, Master of Weapons of Idumea’s castle.”

Isabelle looked over, forgetting to pretend she wasn’t listening to conversation. “Lord Ragnor was sent here by Prince Magnus himself.”

“Question him,” Sebastian ordered after he thanked Isabelle for the input. “I want to know everything the Prince of Hell has told him. Question him sharply.”

 _No. That meant…_ Alec stepped forward before Lord Aldertree left the tent. “Your Grace, I beg you to reconsider.”

He was half surprised with himself that he’d speak up, but not neither as shocked as the king seemed. “Reconsider? What does my lord mean by that?”

Surprised or not, Alec couldn’t let them torture Ragnor. “Lord Ragnor is a high lord of Edom. He deserves to be treated as such, not like a commoner or a traitor. I’ve been a hostage under his care once and I was never harmed. I should think we ought to return the courtesy.”

There was a heavy silence that followed Alec’s words, an uncomfortable one. Isabelle was regarding him with a strange look on her face, though there was no reproach on her. Not like on Jace’s, at least.

“Maybe your time in Edom has softened your heart towards the demon worshipers.” Sebastian said eventually. His voice was as cold as his eyes and twice as pragmatic. “We need information to win this war, my Lord Alec. You would know that better than anyone, considering your inclination for strategy making.”

Alec knew at once he had to proceed with caution. If he showed any signs of favoritism towards Edom, it wasn’t just the argument he would lose, but the king’s trust in his ability to discern friend from foe as well. “Lord Ragnor was injured in the fight. He is in no condition to talk. Your Grace, I beg you give me leave to find him a healer. I will question him myself, once his life is not at risk.”

Beside him, Jace held his breath. Alec was more than sure they would have another fight as soon as they left the royal tent, but at the moment, he didn’t care. Sebastian was their king and they owed him absolute obedience, but Alec had vowed to counsel him as well. That was what he would do, especially since the king was letting his feelings meddle with reason, and so committing a grave mistake.

Isabelle seemed to agree, if her poignant silence could be taken into account. She looked from her brother to her betrothed with sharp eyes, waiting to see if she had to interfere in anyone’s favor.

Sebastian shook his head, more confused than anything else. He gestured for Lord Aldertree to wait outside, dismissing the ladies as well. It was only when the four of them were left alone that Sebastian spoke up. 

“Why do you care so much, Alec?” It wasn’t his king asking anymore. It was the boy who had played with Alec when they were children. The boy who would laugh with Jace’s bold ideas, but side with Alec whenever they went too far. The boy that had promised them he’d be a better king than Valentine on that rainy night Sebastian earned a slap across the face that opened up his lower lip.

There was no reason to come up with an elaborate lie. “You just said I fought valiantly in the battle. Lord Ragnor is the reason behind it. He taught me the art of war, made me the knight I am today.”

Rage flashed on Sebastian’s eyes. “Hodge made the knight you are today.”

“They both did. Hodge taught me how to fight, but I wouldn’t be worth of being a Parabatai if it wasn’t for Lord Ragnor. The Angel blesses those who are chivalrous and true; he is both. Should his loyalty to his king and people be rewarded with torture and degradation? Wouldn’t that put us lower than our enemies, since they treated me with nothing but kindness?”

The tense silence that settled in the tent was so palpable, it could be cut by a knife. Finally, Sebastian sighed and dismissed the argument with a movement of his hand. “Find him a healer, then. And a proper bed to rest. You have three days to get me what I need, Lord Alec. I will let men say I sank lower than downworlders.”

Alec bowed. “Thank you, your Grace. I won’t fail you.”

Sebastian nodded and brought his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose, looking annoyed. “I know. You’re dismissed, Lord Alec. Send Aldertree back inside. Lord Jace, you stay. We still have to deal with the matter of the provisions.”

“My love, may I be excused? I might know a healer that could tend to Lord Ragnor’s injuries,” Isabelle said gently, rising from her seat.

“Of course, my beloved.” Sebastian’s attention was already on their next problem. He half passed a bow to his fiancé, though there was hardly any heart in it and his eyes never left the reports from the battle.

Isabelle didn’t seem to mind as she accompanied her brother out of the tent. Aldertree had trouble hiding his disappointment when Alec informed him he was not to talk to Lord Ragnor, but he quickly recovered his composure before entering the tent.

As soon as they were out of sight from the guards of the royal tent, Isabelle turned to Alec, hands on her lips and a scowl on her face. “What was that about? Thank the Angel, Sebastian didn’t mind it, but you were openly questioning his orders. That is not like you at all.”

“He was sending Aldertree to torture Ragnor and you know it,” Alec said bluntly. “That is not the nephilim way.”

Sighing, Isabelle averted his gaze. “Some lords would say it is the way of war.” Something in the way she said it showed that was Queen Isabelle speaking, not Izzy. “Others would say it is a necessary evil.”

Alec gritted his teeth. “And they would all be wrong. Who is that healer you were talking about?”

“Me.” Isabelle rolled her eyes. “I’ll find a room to put Lord Ragnor in. You go fetch him.”

\---

Princess Clary opened the door after the third time Magnus knocked. He had probably won over any security measure by being annoyingly insistent, which was the prince’s favorite way to do it. Then again, the Fray ladies had many virtues but patience was not one of them. And Magnus had no qualms about playing on that. 

“Magnus,” the princess exclaimed in surprise when she opened the door herself. No attending ladies it seemed.

“Clary,” Magnus smiled charmingly, leaning against the doorframe. There was something endearing in the way she often forgot her courtesies in the most delicate moments. That was the Lukecian influence on her, better suited on Clary than the image of King Valentine’s daughter. “Do I have your leave to come in?”

The girl blushed, realizing they must have looked silly standing by the door in a staring contest. “Please come in.” She stepped aside, letting Magnus in. “My mother is dining with Luke and I wasn’t hungry, but I can send someone to bring us some food.”

Magnus shook his head. “I’m perfectly content with a goblet of wine.” He smiled as the princess poured him one, though Magnus didn’t drink it. Just the color was enough to know it was the lifeless grape juice that passed as wine in Lukos. “So, how are you, biscuit?” Magnus asked because he was genuinely interested.

“Lonely,” Clary answer in earnest. Not that the answer surprised Magnus at all. “How about you?”

“I’m surrounded by counselors and the illustrious royalty of the downworlder kingdoms,” Magnus recited dramatically, but then sighed. “But lonely is the word I’d use too. It seems both of our gallant knights preferred your brother’s company.”

Clary grimaced and crossed her arms against her chest. “If you think you can pry anything from me, you’ll be disappointed. All Jace and Izzy told me was that they had a plan to get us back home. Alec didn’t want me involved, so I wouldn’t have to lie to Luke when he’d come asking questions.”

The bitterness in her voice was real enough for Magnus to believe her words. It also made sense; keeping the princess sheltered from ugly truths seemed to be nephilim modus operandi, judging by the way queen Jocelyn never thought it would be best for her daughter's future to actually tell her about the Mortal War until recently. 

Magnus guessed the beautiful love story of how Luke and Jocelyn had fallen in love during one of the worst crisis of their countries and ran South to escape king Valentine’s wrath made for a very pretty song. Clary had believed her mother’s words for too long and nobody dared to contradict the Alpha Major and his wife, until the princess wrote to Magnus, asking for the truth as she grew older and started to make sense of things on her own.

It had been hard to shatter the beautiful image and tell Clary that her mother and beloved Luke were once fervent believers of king Valentine’s ideals, but Magnus couldn’t let the lie go on for much longer. The princess was a woman grown, not a child in need of protection. She had to know that although the love between king and queen had died by the time Clary was born, Jocelyn ignored all sense of duty as ruler when she embarked in a secret affair with Valentine’s most trusted knight. It was very romantic, yes, but not at all blameless as they made the princess believe.

Besides, knowing the truth was the first step to making right, informed choices, no matter how much it hurt. Such choices as, for example, never trusting a Shadowhunter. 

Magnus cocked his head to the side. “That’s very considerate of Alexander. To think of Luke’s feelings.”

Maybe it was the bitterness in Magnus’ voice that made Clary believe him as well. As hard as it had been to tell her the truth, doing so created some sort of bond between them. A kind of honesty that was rare among nobility. 

“I wonder if it was as hard for them to leave us behind as it is knowing that they did,” Clary said with a sigh. She seemed too resigned for the fierce little thing she was and Magnus wondered what had Jace, Death in Two, told her to make she accept her fate so passively. “But I guess that is a form of protection. Jace tends to put himself in peril to shield those he loves and Alec is not much different. Even if they do it without realizing it.”

That made Magnus frown. So maybe the boy hadn’t said anything, but done it. “How do you mean? What peril are they shielding us from?”

“Well, my brother, for starters.” Clary hesitated for a second. “I never knew him very well, if I’m being completely honest. Not like the boys do. My mother made sure of it. She kept us apart as much as she could after an incident when I was still a baby. She refuses to tell me what Sebastian tried to do to me, but I asked my wetnurse, Dot. She confessed mother found Sebastian climbing up my cradle holding a knife.”

Magnus swallowed hard and took a sip of the wine. He regretted it as soon as the liquid touched his lips, but kept drinking. The story called for it.

Clary continued after she poured a goblet for herself as well. “He was only four, but it scared mother senseless. Dot said the king never seemed to mind and I remember he’d praise Sebastian every time he did something horrible, like beat a squire bloody. Especially if they were bigger than he was. And there was this time…” 

The princess trailed off and looked at the black sky through the window. There was sorrow in her eyes when she spoke again. “Jace used to have a falcon. Beautiful bird, loyal and strong. The king himself had given it to him when on Jace’s eighth blessed day. Sebastian killed it when it broke a wing. Jace cried the whole night, but he stopped when his lord father took the matter to the king and Valentine said the falcon was better off dead than living as a cripple.” She sighed, biting her lower lip. “I think Jace and Sebastian repeated those words so many times, it made them true for both of them.”

It seemed cruelty was inherent to the throne. Magnus knew what it was to have his worst inclinations praised; Asmodeus was very kind to him whenever he caught his son being mean to a servant or lashing out on another kid. It took Magnus years to learn that just because hurting other people made the pain vanish for a few moments, it wasn’t worth the smile on Asmodeus’ face.

He liked to think that if his mother was still alive, she’d teach him that lesson from the start. “And what did Queen Jocelyn do when your brother misbehaved?” 

“Usually she would just take me away,” Clary said quietly. “The king was in charge of raising his heir, and there was no place for his little princess. My mother and I moved to the Summer Palace when I was too little to truly remember anything, but still we frequented the court often. That ended when I was eight and the king had started the Mortal War and took Sebastian with him. That was the last time I’ve heard of my brother and also the moment mother and Luke took me south to Lukos.”

Magnus took another sip; it tasted as bitter as the last one. “Until your brother rose from the ashes of the Mortal War, declared himself king and swiped away your soon to be fiancé.”

Clary’s face was a mask at that. It was impossible to know whether she condoned her brother’s actions or stood on the Alliance’s side. If she knew more than she had told or if she had been taken just as blindsided as Magnus was, her green eyes betrayed nothing. It was the same expression she had on when Magnus told her the truth about her parents’ mess of a marriage.

“I don’t trust my brother,” the princess finally said. Clary was a petite girl, with delicate features. None of that was apparent as a ferocious expression took over her face. “But I trust Jace, and Izzy, and Alec. They will get our home back.” The harshness in her eyes softened the slightly bit. “Please don’t stand in their way, Magnus.”

That was the moment Magnus realized that he had no ally in that room. He put his goblet down, still half full, and bowed lightly. “May Hell never find you, my lady,” he said, purposefully ignoring the girl’s courtesy title and going for her real one. 

“And may the Angel bless your way,” Clary returned the slap, not moving one inch out of Magnus’ way as he walked out of the room.

There was no reasoning with nephilim, it seemed. Magnus had tried to reach out and be kind, but it seemed Valentine’s daughter was not willing to take it. So be it. If Alicante wouldn’t listen, then Magnus had nothing else to say to them. 

The Alliance meeting had decided to unite their armies and march to fight the would be king before he could reach the other camps. The Wild Hunt was close to both Idris and the Bleeding, and they couldn’t afford to lose either. One was Alicante’s capital and the other held the fiercest and most loyal surviving commanders of king Valentine’s army. 

Magnus would ride with the downworlder army up north himself and slay Sebastian the same way his father had done his. 

He exited the Lukos’ wing, determined to go back to his chambers and get rightly drunk on good Vampatrian wine, maybe even find a pretty servant or two to share the wine with him, when Magnus heard something that made him stop. A familiar voice came from the meeting room, through the cracked up door.

“-a message to Meliorn,” the Seelie Queen was saying. “Have him inform the little king of what happened today.”

“Yes, your Magnificence,” Lady Kaelie answered in her sweet tone. “I should be most happy in giving him the news.”

The queen giggled. “You should be most happy in receiving his thanks for the news. He is engaged now.”

“Engaged is not married.” Lady Kaelie’s tone would not be considered proper for a lady. “Besides, I ought to enjoy him while he lasts. One last time, just in case he gets his pretty head chopped off in the next battle.”

The voices were getting closer, so Magnus turned around and hid behind a pillar. He covered his mouth with his hands and watched the ladies vanished in the corridor. 

What, in the name of all Demons in Hell, was that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And what did we learn today, children? Sneaking up on the Seelie Queen just might change the course of the war.
> 
> Once again, I have nothing but grattitude for [QueenCow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenCow/pseuds/QueenCow). I can only ask for chapters proof-read by wednesday and yet you give me laughs, support and so much of your time. Thank you, darling. From the bottom of my heart.
> 
> I'm on [Tumblr](http://sweetillusionketz.tumblr.com/) and on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/Ketz_CML/). Kudos and comments are always appreciated! I'll be tracking #adop on twitter, if anyone feels like live-tweeting :)
> 
> Ketz


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiii
> 
> Before you start, know that there is graphic depiction of violence in this chapter. And I'm not even referring to Ragnor slaying with his words.
> 
> Also, rise malec rise.

Despite his lack of appetite, Magnus munched on a slice of berry pie. Camille’s personal cook was untouched by any demonic darkness, or rather, he was quite the opposite: the result of a twice-cursed evil. There is something not quite right in how everything served on the break of fast tasted so tremendously good. Magnus was used to the spices and sweets of Edomian food, but the richness of these new tastes made him forget how much he missed his home.

It had been little more than a week since he had arrived at Downworlder City. The Edomian wing was very similar to the royal palace, as Magnus had personally decorated it and used his home as reference. He had ordered a replica of his own chambers there, but this time both Lord Baal and Lord Ammon had agreed that he should occupy the king’s chambers. Asmodeus could see it as a slight, but Magnus was done with worrying about his father’s frickle pride.

Still, Magnus missed his life as a prince; his real chambers, his uncomplicated duties. Every day was a trial, having to meet up with the other monarchs and pretend he was sure of what he was doing. More than once he had written letters to Asmodeus, only to burn them before he was stupid enough to send them. That would be gifting his father the weapons he needed to destroy whatever authority Magnus had gained for himself. He already had a plate full having to be courteous to the Seelie Queen and hide his suspicion so not to spook her away. There was no need to deal with two treacherous rulers at once. 

It was a hard job that he had to do, but one that could save hundreds if not thousands of people. It was the duty his royal blood granted him and Magnus was capable enough to do it. Still, he longed for home. 

Magnus sighed, feeling foolish. Children missed their homes, not grown up men. Not princes that had a war to win and rats to unmask.

He had managed to delay his departure with the Downworlder army, sending Sir Alaric instead. Luke had seemed to prefer it that way too, which the prince tried not to get too insulted by. Either way, the army had been spread between Pandemonium, the Moon’s Tears and should he reaching The Bleeding any day now. Magnus had a bad feeling that said it wouldn’t be enough, though. 

Not with the Seelie Queen informing Sebastian their plans. Deflecting military decisions in their almost daily meetings had become increasingly difficult with only Magnus being aware that they had a rat amongst them. It was probably better if he told someone else, so Magnus decided to start with the Queen of the Night.

“What do you think it means?” Queen Camille asked, sipping her goblet of wine after Magnus had reported what he’d heard. She had the wine watered down and tempered with dark berries, to make the taste sweeter. 

It didn’t, not in Magnus’ mouth at least. “It means we cannot trust her. But we can’t throw her in a dungeon either, it would weaken our army by a quarter.”

Camille raised an eyebrow at him. “It is already weakened. We can’t count on the Seelie knights in any assault.”

“No, but as long as the Seelie Queen thinks we don’t know whose side she’s really on, she can’t have her army attacking us.” Magnus nibbled on some grapes. Those were better than the ones from Edom too. There had to be a demon involved somehow. “Better to lack an ally than add an enemy.”

Sighing, the queen gestured for one of the blood maidens to pour more wine for her. Magnus had requested for Raphael to be there with them, but the Undead was nowhere to be seen. Apparently, he was too busy recovering from the monthly bleeding ritual and Camille had thought best not to disturb him in his sleep. 

It was the third time Magnus had tried to involve his friend whenever he saw Camille and his attempts were frustrated. This show of possession was getting rather annoying, but then again, everything the queen did had annoyed Magnus lately. He wondered when it would pass and he could have his friend back. With Raphael kept away, Catarina back in Edom and Ragnor captured by Sebastian’s army, Magnus could really use a friend.

“What is it?” Camille asked. “You’ve been eating more and seem much better rested, but today that light of life seem less bright.”

It was true. Telling the queen what he knew may had stolen Magnus’ appetite, but the days in the Downworlder Palace had made Magnus hungry when the meals were served, and not as sporadically as he felt at home. The nights were shorter, but only because he slept them all, no demonic dream in sight.

“I want to know why she did it. Why would the Seelie Queen betray us like that,” Magnus admitted eventually. “Is everyone going to betray the Alliance? It was supposed to be what held our realms together, what would bring a better future upon us.”

Camille stared at him quietly for a moment. “You’ve always been a dreamer, my dear. It pains me to see you hurting like that. But fear not, I am your true friend. I will never betray you.”

Magnus shook his head. A month ago, her lies would have calmed his heart and make everything seem better for a moment for he would believe her. Not anymore. “I’m not talking about myself. But it doesn’t matter. I have to find a way to feed the Seelie Queen false information, if we want to surprise Sebastian.”

“She already knows we’ve sent the army to the camps,” Camille pointed out. “There was nothing false about that.”

“A part of the army and it was an easily predictable move.” Magnus’ hand shot up to his cat eye-shaped pendant as he thought. Every time his fingers brushed the arrow that hung with it, Magnus felt a shiver run down his spine. “We had no choice but fortify our defenses. Our only hope is to crush Sebastian before he takes Alicante back, otherwise we risk an open war in our lands.”

The queen nodded and leaned against her chair. She had chosen a rather revealing gown for the day and every movement made the loosen sleeves lower down, showing off more and more pale skin. Magnus wondered what her goal was with that. “I’ve become a fine warlord, dearest. And to think you’ve despised such matters so much when we were young. Would that Magnus could see you now. I bet he’d be proud of you.”

“Or disgusted.” The prince closed his eyes. “Regardless, I will be who I have to in order to win this war. I want Ragnor back and I want to end the Morgenstern line once and for all. I can go back to myself once these things are done.”

“And what about Alec?” Camille’s voice was smooth like silk, though there was something underneath it Magnus couldn’t quite grasp.

He sighed. Magnus was tired of being angry with Alec, tired of wondering how different things would be if he’d knew the knight’s plans. He clearly wasn’t capable of hating Alexander, and he had tried time and again. They were on opposing sides of the war, and yet Magnus couldn’t see him as his enemy. “I’ll deal with him if we ever cross paths in the battlefield. That is all.”

Camille nodded and pickup up a tart, nibbling on it. “Between you and I, we can easily feed the Seelie Queen false information. Maybe even use her to get Sebastian where we want him. The Moon’s Tears is where he’d get all weaponry. If we can lead him to believe it will be the less guarded, for instance, we can trap him on his way there. He would have to cross the entire country and that would spread his army wide in the mountains, making him an easy target.”

It was a risky plan, but there was some logic to it. Magnus tried to remember the maps he’d seen of the region and he was pretty sure there was a wall of mountains that were steep enough to set a trap in. It could work. “I’ll talk to the Alpha Major about it. With his feral warriors, there would be the end of the war.”

“Are you sure you can trust him?” Camille asked out of a sudden, her voice tense. “Luke is in love with his nephilim wife and Sebastian is fighting for her cause. If the gets the throne back, don’t you think the little prince will want his lady mother on his side? Luke will benefit no matter what side wins this war. He might not pick ours if he learns the Seelie witch has betrayed us.”

That didn’t sound like Luke. It was true that he once loved king Valentine and sworn to protect him and his, but that was a long time ago. Betrayal, love and hate had tainted that relationship and Luke himself had been instrumental to forging the Alliance and defeating the nephilim army. Lukos wouldn’t have made him their Alpha Major otherwise.

Magnus nodded. “I think you’re right, darling. It’s best if we keep this between us.” He rose from his seat and brushed away the crumbs from his clothing. “Thank you for the lovely food. I should meet with my counselors and see what else we can do about the Seelie Queen.” He bowed dramatically and earned a delighted giggle from Camille. 

“You’re always welcome to my chambers, dearest,” the queen said, smirking. “And I do mean always.”

Oh. So that was what she was hoping to accomplish with that gown. But why? “That is most kind of you.” Magnus smiled and hoped it didn’t seem forced. “Give Raphael my love, will you? I miss his scowl.”

Camille nodded, her smile wavering for just a moment. “It is so unfortunate that he hasn’t been able to be here today. I’m sure he misses you dearly.”

“I doubt that somehow.” Magnus nodded to the blood maidens and stepped away, turning before he couldn’t keep smiling any longer. He wasn’t sure when his trust in Camille had broken, if it was when Asmodeus told him of their plan, or when she used Magnus’ mistakes to make him forget she was wrong too.

The way back to Edomian wing was just a short walk, but Magnus didn’t turn right when he should’ve. Instead, he headed to the Lukenian wing. Going there in the light of day felt more wrong than when Magnus had done it in the dead of the night, through the hidden passages Lord Baal traced for him. Still, Magnus felt his heart race when he approached the two guards positioned at the first door.

Magnus swallowed hard and lifted his chin up. “Tell the Alpha Major that the Prince of Hell is here to see him.”

\---

Alec slashed through the bloody guard’s throat and stepped aside from the gush of blood. The next guard came yelling and that was his undoing. Alec spun around and lifted his sword just in time to block the attack. He was taller than the vampatrian, and stronger. Shifting his weapon, Alec forced the guard into spreading his arms and used that opening to finish him too.

A few feet away, Jace sliced open another guard. Alec had no idea how many of them had fallen to their swords, but now they were close, so close. They had to cross the entire camp as the rest of the blessed army fought off hordes of bloody troops, but the Parabatai did it. The cells should be right down the corridor and there was no one in their way.

“Come on,” Jace breathed out. “Hodge is just a couple of feet away.”

Nodding, Alec stepped forward. He reached the last door and kicked it open, revealing the cells where the downworlders kept the most important officers of king Valentine’s army. As Master of Arms of the Royal Palace of Idris, Hodge Starkweather would be there. He had been the one to steal Sebastian away when it became clear the Mortal War would not grant them victory and Hodge had raised the prince as best as he could until the Seelie Queen had welcomed them into her care.

Sebastian had told them how he saw Hodge being taken by demonic soldiers when he was six and ten years old. He tried rushing to save him, but the Seelie knights the queen gave up to protect him held him down.

_Save him_ , their king had commanded. And now they had. 

“Hodge!” Alec exclaimed when he saw him. He ran to cell at the same time the Master of Arms stood up and stepped closer to the metal bars. “Hodge,” Alec said again.

“Alec…? Is that you?” Hodge’s voice was hoarse and unused, but it was him. Beneath the ragged clothes and the filth, it was him. Hodge reached out, his trembling fingers rushing through Alec’s face when he was close enough to touch. “Alec… Alec. Look at you. A man grown.” Hodge chuckled weakly. “Is that a beard?”

“I told him he looked ridiculous, but when has Alec listened to me, hm?” Jace said with a smirk and let Hodge grab his arm. “Hey, let me get you out of this hell.”

Both Alec and Hodge gave him room and Jace smashed the padlock with the base of his sword. Alec helped Hodge out of the cell as Jace offered him a canteen full of water. While Hodge drank, the Parabatais set free the others. Along with Hodge, they found Sir Anson Pangborn and the Lord Samuel Blackwell, who both had been members of the the Circle of Raziel, king Valentine’s closest advisors and brothers in arms. 

The three of them were the last surviving members, though Alec wasn’t sure all of them would make it. Lord Blackwell couldn’t walk on his own, not since his shattered legs hadn’t healed up properly. Sir Anson kept looking around, afraid of his own shadow. And Hodge… 

He was a skeleton of a man, his green eyes hollow and swollen by beatings. They walked carefully towards the sunlight, and beneath the layer of dirty and dry blood, Hodge was as pale as snow. His fingers curling up tentatively on the dagger Jace gave him. It broke Alec’s heart to see what Hodge had become. 

But then again, his heart seemed permanently in pieces, so what was another blow?

“How did you two get here?” Hodge asked, looking around. The Bleeding was not a large installment, but it was heavily guarded by people who had no fear of death and would gladly meet it. The battle had been brutal and there were heavy losses on both sides, but freeing the remaining nephilim military was worth the bloodshed. “Are those… nephilim armor? Adamante? How?”

Jace smiled. “Our king made it possible. He called his shadowhunters and we’ve answered the calling, just like you did ten years ago.”

Hodge frowned. “King?”

“Sebastian,” Alec said. “You saved him and now he’s saving you in return.”

“Is he alive?” Hodge hesitated, clearly having a hard time believing it. “But they said-”

“Whatever they said, they lied.” Jace shook his head and put his sword back in its sheath. “Sebastian is alive and he rescued us. Brought together the army. We cut the downworlder food supply and sent it to the villagers. They sent men and women in return. Now we have the heads to command our army too. Alicante will be ours in a moon’s turn.”

Hodge looked at him with cold eyes and Alec could see him making a decision. “What of the others? Isabelle? The Princess?”

Jace smiled at that. “Izzy is here, of course. As if we could ever keep her away from the action. Clary is safe down south, with Luke. King Sebastian thought it was best if his mother and sister stayed away. One less thing to worry about.”

“The queen and the princess are in the hands of the enemy?” Hodge gasped.

“The Alpha Major might be the enemy, but Luke isn’t. He won’t let them get hurt,” Jace hissed, partly to Hodge, but mostly to himself. Alec and him had been sharing a room and every night Jace prayed for the Angel to keep Clary and Jocelyn safe. That had been the hardest part, to convince him to leave them behind. “Now come on. Let’s get you cleaned up. You stink.”

No one said a word after that. Alec and Jace helped the other three to cross the camp, doing the best that they could not to stare at the sea of bodies everywhere. Blessed soldiers were walking around, helping the survivors, but they parted away to give them room. Soon enough, their group arrived at the medical tent.

Isabelle gasped loudly when she saw them, almost forgetting about the man she had been tying up. She called for one of her ladies to take her place and ran to them, throwing herself at Hodge. Alec had to hold them both, otherwise they would’ve fallen. 

“I don’t believe it,” Isabelle said, her tears rolling down her cheeks. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

Hodge smiled and kissed her in the forehead. “I made you a promise on your seventh blessed day, little lady. I said I would make a warrior out of you.” He looked the stains of blood on her dress and how her hair was tied up in a practical braid instead of the intricate hairstyles the ladies favoured. “But it seems you didn’t need me for that.”

Shaking her head, Isabelle wiped away her tears. “It’s because of you that I have become who I am today. There was no one to teach me how to take lives, so I learned how to save them.” Inhaling sharply, Isabelle lifted up her chin. “Lydia, Aline, Helen, I need your help. Get them to somewhere safe and tend to their wounds.”

The three got to work immediately. Alec watched them go and his hand shot up to where his arrow pendant was hidden beneath his clothes. They had won another victory and gotten more of their people free. As soon as they had their arms, nothing would stop them.

Alec sighed. “I’m going to go back and see if I find any survivors in the cells.”

“No,” Isabelle said and grabbed his sleeve. “I need the two of you to see something.” She looked between Alec and Jace, and pushed them aside, guiding them to the back of the infirmary, where the corpses of those who didn’t make it were kept, waiting to be burned by heavenly fire.

Jace frowned. “Izzy, where are you taking us?”

There was no answer, or at least, none until they passed by the fallen warriors. Isabelle only smiled and kept walking, climbing up the hill that lead to the end of the camp. Alec and Jace exchanged glances, but didn’t say anything until they reached the top.

And once they did, there was nothing to be said. 

Down the hill there was the village where the families of the camp’s guards lived. Women, children, old people. They were mostly Vampatrians, but there were Lukenians and Edomians too. They tended to the land and provided the camp with food and supplies. Or they did, for every single one of them was dead, their crops burned and gone. An entire village slaughtered.

“What is this?” Alec’s eyes shot open. Wherever he looked, there were ashes and destruction. Jace was shaking beside him, from anger. “We have to find out who was responsible for this. Inform Sebastian. They won’t get away with killing the inno-”

Isabelle shook her head. “It was Sebastian.” Jace whispered a faint ‘no’, but she didn’t let him say anything else. “A few farmers made it up the hill and found us in the medical tent. Lydia brought me out here. I saw the soldiers and I saw it when Sebastian gave the order.”

It couldn’t be. Their fight was with those holding Alicante imprisoned, not with farmers or children. There was no glory in killing those who couldn’t defend themselves, and no point either. 

Jace shook his head repeatedly. He hadn’t taken his eyes off the wasted village and both Alec and Isabelle pretended not to see the tears he was fighting to keep in. “There must have been a reason. He wouldn’t… He couldn’t have ordered this. It can’t be true. We are the good guys.”

“We are at war, Jace. There are no good guys in war, not like in the songs.” Isabelle looked away, biting her lower lip. She was hugging herself, shaking too but not from the same reason as Jace. Alec reached for her and his sister grabbed his hand, squeezing it into hers.

He sighed. “We don’t really know what happened here.” Alec looked at the village and then grabbed his Parabatai’s shoulder. “There’s only one way to find out. We ask him.”

Isabelle was ready to protest, but there was fire in Jace’s eyes as he nodded. “We ask him now.”

\---

King Sebastian received them in the great hall, surrounded by his commanders. They had taken the keep from a proeminent Vampatrian family and released the nephilim that were kept as servants. The three daughters were told to wear their exuberant gowns and were circulating among the men, carrying gallons of wine while their mother and father were stuck in the dungeons with their younger brother.

It had been like this since they arrived and despite the girl’s tears, nephilim laughter filled the small castle.

“My Parabatais!” Sebastian exclaimed and got up from the lord’s chair. “And my beloved betrothed. I see you are all in battle gear. Go clean yourselves, change into new clothes. Tonight we feast to celebrate this great victory.” The king turned and faced his lords. “Lady Isabelle and her beauties saved dozens of our men today. My fiancé proves everyday her worth as our future queen. And the Parabatai… Because of Lord Alec and Lord Jace, the most loyal of my father’s men are back to us.”

Hodge smiled from his seat as the other commanders roared the names Lightwood and Herondale. He had been bathed and scrubbed clean. In black furs and leather, Hodge looked somewhat like the man he had once been. 

His smile wavered when he saw the expressions on their faces. Sebastian’s festive demeanour was also gone, but he managed to smile despite it and walked up to Isabelle. In her bloodied dress and disheveled hair, she looked twice as commanding as he did. 

“My love, what is it?” Sebastian asked in a lower voice, looking from her to Alec and Jace. “Is something wrong?”

Isabelle looked straight at him. “We need to talk. In private.”

Sebastian smiled, but his eyes were cold as ice. “Dear, you stink of blood. Why don’t you get yourself presentable and then we’ll talk?”

“No,” Jace said, stubbornly. “We will talk now.”

Inhaling sharply, Sebastian stared between the two of them. He turned to Alec, just to find no support at all. Whispering had taken the hall behind him and Sebastian sighed. “Fine. But all of you will get cleaned first. This is no way to enter a court. Did living among those savages rip you off of your manners?”

Alec landed a hand on Jace’s shoulder, stopping him from saying whatever was almost out of his lips. “We will meet you in the lord’s chambers, your Grace. In half an hour.”

He didn’t gave a chance for Sebastian to protest, pulling Jace to go with him. Isabelle followed them closely, but only after placing a chaste kiss on Sebastian’s cheek, for the sake of appearances. They parted ways, for long enough to wipe the blood off of their skin and hair.

Jace put on the first clothes he found and rushed Alec through their joint chamber’s door. “Come on, we don’t have time to lose.”

“He’ll make us wait,” Alec said, but followed Jace anyway.

“No, he won’t.” Jace shook his head, his voice rushed and stern. “He is our friend.”

“He is our king and we challenged him in front of the heads of his army.” Alec gritted his teeth. Isabelle was waiting for them at the door of Sebastian’s chambers, her hair still wet from bathing. Otherwise, she had dressed as the queen she would be. There were no guards to stop them as they gathered around the decorated door. “He’ll make us wait.”

Isabelle laid her hands on her hips, defiant as ever. “So we’ll wait.”

And wait they did. The first half an hour passed, and then the second. Alec’s entire body was raging for food and rest, but yet he kept standing, until Sebastian finally entered the corridor. He was not smiling, not where there wasn’t an audience wanting a performance. That was a good sign, at least. It wasn’t king Sebastian coming to see them, it was the man.

“I’m sorry for keeping you all waiting,” Sebastian said once they were all inside the inner chamber. He sat down on a chair, looking bored. “They kept toasting and making great speeches. You’d hate it, Alec.” He chuckled and then shook his head. “Anyway, what is wrong? Hodge is safe, we have two camps, heading for the third next. The downworlders leaders are scared, fighting over each other in meetings. This war is all but won.”

Jace stepped in front of their king, his face completely blank. “Who gave the order to kill the downworlder villagers?”

Alec’s entire focus was on their king’s face and that was the only reason he saw the anger flash in his dark eyes. No, not anger. It was some sort of guilt or… No, not shame. Not guilty either. Resignation. Sebastian sighed and he looked tired, as tired as they all were. 

“I did,” the king admitted. “Once the attack to the camp started, the villagers descended on our rear. I dispatched a group to deal with them, but things got out of hand.” He narrowed his eyes and closed his hand into a fist. “If only they had stayed out of the fight, nothing like that would have happened. But you know how Shadowhunters are. I told them to stop the villagers and Shadowhunters will do as their king command, so...” He trailed off, as if the end of that sentence wasn’t important.

But it was for Jace. He shook his head, stepping forward. “They didn’t just kill them. That would be bad enough. Kids were slaughtered, the land was burned to a crisp. That was a massacre! The Angel taught us to be warriors, to honor our swords by fighting and protecting those who can’t fight.” Jace inhaled sharply and his voice was barely louder than a whisper. “They could not fight.”

Sebastian gritted his teeth and stood up, laying a hand on Jace’s shoulder. “The innocent shall find their way into Raziel’s gardens. Their deaths were unfortunate, and pains me to say it, but Jace… They were a necessity. The Wild Hunt was an easy conquest, but the Bleeding was the real trial. What we did today will send a message. No more downworlders have to die, if they surrender.”

“They won’t,” Alec said, arms crossed behind his back so the king couldn’t see his hands curled up into fists.

“Then we will keep fighting.” Sebastian looked at him and it was hard to read his expression. “What of the hostage? Is he recovered enough to be questioned, Lord Alec? Or should I wait for another week? I gave you three days. It’s been twice that time.”

Alec lifted up his chin. Sebastian was tall, but he was taller. When they were boys, Alec used to slauch so not to stand above him, but he had grown tired of curving down to him. “Lord Ragnor is recovering well. He hasn’t spoken yet, but I believe I can get through him now that he’s seen what we are capable of.”

The king narrowed his eyes at him, looking for weaknesses. Alec gave him none and so it was settled. “Get on with it. I need to know what kind of defenses they have in Idris before we get there.”

Isabelle frowned at that. “Idris? I thought we were going to Moon’s Tears next. Gather the weapons and other militaries supplies we need.”

“Forgive me, my love.” Sebastian didn’t even glanced at her as he spoke. “There was a change of plans. They mock our faith and we allow it. They named our sacred city of Idris after a Hellish town, emptied our castles to give way to their families, forced your parents into submission. We have arms and the queen says they are waiting for us to attack the Moon’s Tears.” Sebastian looked up, his eyes burning with passion. With lust for retribution. “We will retake our capitol and kill all of those who stand in our way. I swear on my father’s honor.”

It made sense, to change courses and go for the final prize. Their army seemed unstoppable now that one fourth of the Alliance didn’t take arms against them. Alec still felt uncomfortable knowing they were using a spy to gain information on the downworlders, but there was nothing to be done about it. They might as well use whatever they had to their advantage. And if Magnus thought they were going west instead of north, then-

No. Not Magnus. The Downworlder Alliance. They were his enemy, not Magnus. Alec could hate the Alliance, could want revenge on them for what they did to him and to his family. 

But he could never hate Magnus. He loved him too much.

There was something in the way Sebastian had spoken, though. With passion in his voice, yes, but there was something else. Rage and ruthlessness. But Alec was more worried about what wasn’t there. 

No mercy. 

_We will retake our capitol and kill all of those who stand in our way. Kill all of those who stand in our way. Kill all._

Alec inhaled sharply, realizing he had seen that viciousness from his king before. But when?

“Today has been taxing on all of us,” Sebastian declared when his vow was met by silence. “But we need to keep thinking about the future.” He reached out for Isabelle. “Our future, ruling Alicante together. I hereby promise never to keep out of the decisions I make, Isabelle of Lightwood.” Sebastian looked at Alec. “My Lord Alec, I shall honor the vow I made to you. The Parabatai’s duty is to follow my command, but I have the duty to listen to your counsel in return. So far, I have failed that duty. I won’t again.” Finally, he turned to Jace. “Lord Jace, Death in Two. I know I can trust you with my life. But more importantly, I trust you with the lives of those who are the most important to me. My family.”

Jace frowned, crossing his arms against his chest. “What do you mean, your Grace?”

“It is past time your engagement to my sister is announced.” Sebastian offered his hand for Jace to hold. “Once we have Idris cleansed of the downworlder filth, we’ll move to get Clary. Your wedding will happen on the same day we take our home back, once and for all. The celebration of your love will be the omen of the good luck that will fuel in my reign into greatness.”

The look at Jace’s face could be read in a number of ways. Surprise, fear, excitement. Most of all, he seemed hopeful. To Alec’s dread, Jace took Sebastian’s hand and smiled. “We leave at first light. ”

The king chuckled. “Or in a couple of days.” He walked away from Jace and poured them all some wine, giving each of them a cup. “We have to give time to our wounded to heal, my brother.”

Alec accepted his, but did not drink it. His mind was all over the place and he could barely listen to what Jace was saying next. Alec looked at the dark liquid, so similar to blood. And then he saw his reflection on the polished metal.

“Talking about healings,” he said and bowed to Sebastian. “I will see Lord Ragnor tonight. The sooner I get him talking, the better. By your leave, your Grace.”

Sebastian smirked and nodded, gesturing to the door. “Always the pragmatic. Don’t forget to get some rest as well.”

Alec nodded and kissed his sister good-night before leaving. He had remembered when he’d seen Sebastian acting like that. They were just boys, practicing sword after a lesson from Hodge. Jace had been sick the entire week, in bed with a fever, so there were just the two of them. And the prince had been angry, because Alec had mastered a new dodge before he did. That never happened.

So Sebastian had asked Alec to stay and teach him. Alec had complied immediately; it would be an honor to help him. _Just look at how I’m doing it_ , Alec had said, excited to finally have the attention of the heir to Alicante’s throne all to himself. 

But at some point, as Alec showed the prince the move, Sebastian had attacked him. Again and again. And he was aiming for Alec’s face, for his eyes. 

_You want me to look, do you?_ , the prince kept saying and slashing, and slashing, and slashing. The pain came with one of those blows and soon Alec couldn’t see, for his left eye was covered in blood.

Hodge had found them and gotten Sebastian away from Alec. Nobody talked about it and eventually Alec had forgotten it ever happen, but seeing his reflection brought those memories back. The scar on his eyebrow was proof enough of how ruthless Sebastian was when he felt crossed. And that was before he had a crown over his head.

Alec did not believe him. Slaughtering that village was not a necessity and it was not the message of the nephilim way. That was all Sebastian, and something that would keep happening.

_Kill all of those who stand in our way._

“It’s open,” Lord Ragnor said when Alec knocked on his door after making a brief stop. “Or should I say, it opens from the outside?”

Sighing, Alec opened the lock and walked in, closing the door behind him. Ragnor was sitting by the window, watching the night sky and playing mindlessly with his emerald pendant. It was in the shape of a horn and the lord rolled it between his fingers with a practice obtained through the years. 

The color had come back to his skin, which was good, but he still didn’t look completely recovered. Alec stood up straight and crossed his arms behind his back. “How are you feeling, my lord?”

Ragnor looked at him. Every time Alec tried visiting, the master of arms had refused to talk to him, and that was when he’d been conscious. He would just stare at Alec, his expression betraying nothing. 

This time, however, Ragnor opened his mouth. “As well as someone could expect, considering I’m a prisoner in a tower.”

“These are the best accommodations I could secure you,” Alec said, almost defensively. He pushed his lips together, knowing that was Ragnor being his defiant as always. He would not relent, not while he had warm blood in his veins. “After carrying you in my sister’s carriage, I had to beg the king to give you a room in this tiny castle.”

“Why?” Ragnor cocked his head to the side, the mockery in his tone dripping like poison. “Isn’t your king a reasonable man?”

Alec knew it was meant to anger him. And it was working. “Is yours?”

There was no response to that, so Ragnor just looked away. Eventually, he shook his head and smiled a little. “Magnus is.”

That hurt more than anything Ragnor could ever say. It was true and Alec knew it. If the Alliance was the enemy - and Alec wasn’t sure of that anymore - Magnus was the key to ending the war before it became a living nightmare. But he wouldn’t listen to Alec. 

So Alec would have him listening to someone else instead. “Yes, he is. That is why I need you to write him a letter.”

A scornful laugh escaped Ragnor’s lips. “Once there was a time I would do a lot for you, Alec. That time has passed.”

“I’m not asking this for me, my lord.” Alec pushed his lips together and stepped closer. He showed Ragnor the ink and parchment he had been carrying. “It’s for your people. You can save them, dozens of them. Maybe even hundreds. Write this letter, please.” 

Ragnor stared at him for what seemed to be eternity, unmoving and unbending. A thousand times, Alec was sure he would never have an answer and, if he did, it would be a negative. He would have to find another way to talk to Magnus, to make a message get to him. But how?

“Fine,” Ragnor said, shrugging and standing up. His legs seemed to have healed up after all. “Only because you’re my favorite.” Ragnor walked up to him and took the ink and parchment from him, sitting down at his bed. “And Alec, a Shadowhunter would never beg.”

Alec gritted his teeth. “To Hell with what a Shadowhunter would do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at them, they are communicating! In a way. Sort of. 
> 
> Thank you so much, [QueenCow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenCow/pseuds/QueenCow). This story wouldn't be half of what it is without your shakespearean reads.
> 
> I'm on [Tumblr](http://sweetillusionketz.tumblr.com/) and on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/Ketz_CML/). Kudos and comments are always appreciated! I'll be tracking #adop on twitter, if anyone feels like live-tweeting :)
> 
> Ketz


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi <3
> 
> Get ready. This is gonna be a hell of a ride.
> 
> Also known as malec working together, even from hundreds of miles away. And then, not so distant anymore.
> 
> Warning: Violence. Homophobia.
> 
> In conclusion, more Sebastian's scenes.

“Good morning, your Highness,” Lord Baal recited as Magnus entered the room he had been instructed to meet him at. 

As efficient as the Master of Secrets was, he sure was twice as dramatic. Magnus had woken up from another restful night just to find an envelope delivered through his door, telling him to burn the parchment once he had read the message. Inside it there was a note with an exact time and location Lord Baal would be waiting for him.

Dramatic, to say the least. Magnus had swallowed a piece of lemon cake and dressed up, rushing to the mysterious encounter. With The Wild Hunt and The Bleeding fallen, both Camille and the Alpha Major had been calling for a direct attack. The prince had tried to pry any true information among the generic things the Seelie Queen offered in their meetings, but he would fair better in fighting the entire blessed army himself than in that regard.

Needless to say, Magnus had no patience for all the theatrics. “Is there a reason behind these elusive meetings in secret rooms? I enjoy your company immensely, my lord, but I’m afraid not in that regard.”

Lord Baal pouted, but the smirk on his lips tainted the act. “I shall survive despite this cruel rejection, my prince. I might not be as useful to you, however, as men of hurt pride often tend to be.”

Magnus sneered and sat in front of him, letting his body slauch on the large chair. “I am sure you don’t need me to inflate your overblown ego.”

“My adequately blown ego has been sufficiently inflated last night, but I thank you for caring, your Highness.” The Master of Secrets smiled at Magnus’ snort. “Still, there are so few people in this world that can boast about being the recipient of the Prince of Darkness’ affections.” Lord Baal sighed. “A rather exclusive position. One I strive to hold one day.”

“There is only one person that can claim that and I don’t think it would do him any good to do so as of now.” Magnus raised an eyebrow. This game was getting tiresome out of a sudden. He already had to deal with Camille’s inconvenient questions about Alexander. Lord Baal was supposed to be above that.

The lord nodded, conceding the point without protest. “Romantic affections, yes. But fraternal affections? I can think of a few lords and ladies of the Edomian high court, one Undead or two. Even a crownless princess.” Lord Baal smiled and produced a roll of parchment. He wiggled it in his fingers and quickly offered it to Magnus. “I can especially think of one moody master of arms.”

Magnus’ mouth went dry at that. “Ragnor?” He asked, fingers gingerly closing around the parchment. “Is this news about him?” The seal was broken, but that was to be expected. Magnus had ordered for the lord to read through all his correspondence and only bring him what was absolutely vital to the war. 

“Yes. Straight from the font, I should say.” Lord Baal indicated for Magnus to open the letter. “Though I never saw Lord Ragnor’s handwriting, the content sounds exactly like him. The letter arrived this morning, just after the news of the fall of the Vampatrian camp.”

A flash of anger ran through Magnus. “There was no need for all the suspense. When did this arrive? Why was I not awaken at once?”

By the way Lord Baal frowned, he hadn’t been expecting such a response. “My prince, I just now received it. I beg your forgiveness, but the content of the letter is not merely an assurance of Lord Ragnor’s well being. There is vital information about the war in there, something I believe you would want to see in private before reaching any decisions.”

Magnus arched an eyebrow at him, but sighed. He was not expecting to receive any news of Ragnor, unless it was in the form of a threat to the master of arms’ life. The prince opened the parchment carefully. Had Ragnor managed to sneak this message out of the cell he was being held in, or did they make him write it? Magnus wasn’t sure which option he liked less.

_My most dear Prince,_ read the letter. Ragnor had a small, circular handwriting, but it didn’t seem rushed nor written in distress. _I assure you I am well and recovering quickly from the wounds I suffered in battle. They were a few, but rest assure I paid them back in kind and generously. I could tell you more of my extraordinary capture, though I am afraid you would not give it the credit it is due, so there is no point in wasting the ink I was so kindly provided with._

A chuckle escaped Magnus’ lips as he fought back the tears. It was Ragnor and he was feeling good enough to be his grumpy, dramatic self. Somehow the image of the master of arms answering every question the nephilim had with his usual amount of scorn and wit warmed Magnus’ heart.

_Although I am still a prisoner, these child-warriors have not treated me unkindly. In fact, one could say I have finally been treated the way I deserve, considering the future queen of Alicante herself has tended to my wounds. I have also been receiving regular visits of a favorite of yours and it will rejoice your heart to know that no harm has fallen on him, even if I think he would benefit of a good slap on the head. It might get his mind into the right place._

Snorting fondly, Magnus played with his arrow pendant. In his mind, he could almost hear Ragnor’s voice as he read on.

_Unfortunately, my Prince, I do not write to you only to inform of my well being. There is something else, something that might change the course of this petty war. Do not believe the nameless lady, my friend. A master can hide lies within the truth._

Magnus nodded, biting his lower lip. It was enough confirmation of something Magnus had no doubts about, but still it touched him that Ragnor would go through the trouble of warning him of the Seelie Queen’s treachery.

He looked up to Lord Baal, who was watching him like a hawk. “We know of the spy in our Alliance already.”

“Keep going, your Highness. The last part is the most important one,” Lord Baal said, and for once in his life, there was no trace of a smile in his voice.

Magnus read the last paragraph carefully, his brow furring deeper with every word. _The next attack on The Moon’s Tears is a rouse. General Ap Nudd rides a false army while the monster’s son climbs up, to the capital. There are not to be survivors, my Prince. The Angel’s army are to rain heavenly fire on those who deny them their sacred city, burn to ashes innocents and guilty alike. They arrive on the night the moon will be hiding, so not to see the butchery of downworlder families._

_I counsel you to act, my Prince. Do it now, while there is still time._

“Summon an urgent meeting,” Magnus commanded at once, standing up and crushing the letter in his hands. “Send word for the others and burn this. I want everyone in the meeting room within the hour.”

Lord Baal frowned, clearly taken aback. Nonetheless, he bit down his protests and moved to do as he was told. Magnus watched him go and promptly went to take his father’s throne. They had three days until the lunar eclipse and the date was no mistake on king Sebastian’s part. 

The Lukenians believed the moon was their warrior Goddess; the brighter she rode the skies, the more powerful they were. But even the queen of the warriors had to rest and be with her sons, the stars, so whenever she retired for a night, so should they. That Alicante’s army planned on attacking during the time the Lukenians were fasting and deep in prayer was no coincidence. They were the fiercest of the downworlder armies, the ones who guarded Dis, their mutual occupation camp in Idris.

The Alpha Major was the first to arrive, followed by queen Jocelyn and her lady in waiting, Lady Gretel, and the she-wolf Lady Maia. Luke had struck a bargain with her by making Maia head of his family security. It seemed an fool’s plan, considering she had been the first to call for using Jocelyn and Clary as bait, but, by including the knight in his plans, Luke had put an end to the Maia’s feelings of helplessness all the while channeling her strength into protecting the women he loved.

Magnus nodded at them courteously, realizing that it was possible to be king and yet stay kind. For years Luke had been there, pathing that pathway with wisdom and courage, but only now Magnus had been able to see it. The Prince of Darkness had been too busy with king Asmodeus’ evil mind games, or too worried by the ramifications of king Valentine’s madness to pay attention to any other possibility of ruling.

Treachery, greed and cruelty were not the way of kings; only of petty men with crowns on their heads. A whole nation had elected a foreign their leader and Luke had repaid their faith by being fair and honorable. If Magnus were ever to truly succeed his father, he would try and follow Luke’s steps instead. He would earn the respect of his subjects through action and worthiness, not fear and tyranny.

When the two queens and their entourage took their places, Magnus raised his voice. “My lords and ladies, I know summoning an urgent meeting is highly unusual but my Master of Secrets has come across the most alarming news and action must be taken immediately.” The prince looked at Lord Baal, who pursed his lips to hide his surprise. He had not been expecting that Magnus would share the letter’s content with the others, not when they knew they had a spy among them. He did not approve either.

Magnus looked back to the other monarchs. “The blessed army is already on the march towards the Moon’s Tears. My scouts estimate they will be there in three days time. It seems Queen Camille’s plan of trapping Sebastian and his dogs in the mountains is our best and only option. We cannot let them get to the Iron Sisters and their adamante weaponry.”

The reactions were exactly what Magnus had anticipated. Camille’s surprised expression lasted for merely a second before her eyes darkened with a sick sense of pride. She had not thought their little scheme would come to pass in reality, but Magnus could see her delight in being credited for it anyway.

Luke’s face grew somber. “My feral warriors will be fasting in three days time. The camp will be at their most vulnerable. I will not ask of my men to forsake our traditions and fight when they should be honoring their families and loved ones instead.”

“We fight to protect,” the she-wolf echoed, repeating the Lukenian war cry that was the base of their philosophy. The look in Maia’s eyes were enough to know there would be no discussing this.

Good. It lead straight into what Magnus was expecting. The Seelie Queen cleared her throat. “No one could ask you to dishonor your faith, Alpha Major. My general and his men are ready to fight. We Seelies are experts in traps and using the earth as an ally. Allow me to call for Gwyn ap Nudd and he will defend the camp and capture king Sebastian.” 

Magnus nodded after Luke and his wife exchanged a glance and accepted the offer. The Seelie Queen’s exultant smile could be easily mistaken for belief in their plan, but Magnus knew better. She had jumped on the opportunity to pass the Seelie army that approached the Moon’s Tears as envoys of the Alliance. It would make the perfect explanation for moving her men there while Sebastian attacked unprotected Dis.

In her haste, however, the queen had revealed something Magnus had been wondering about. She intended to keep the farse up for a while longer, otherwise she wouldn’t have seized the excuse to send her army away from where the real battle would take place. By not being there, the Seelie Queen couldn’t be accused of not helping. She would be able to continue to spy unsuspectedly. 

But her peace of mind would cost her highly. Let the queen feed Sebastian with false information for a change. Arrogance had brought down better women than her and Magnus would squeeze every drop of advantage he could find before he was done with her.

“It is decided then,” the Prince of Darkness concluded. “My lady, I bid you to send word to general Gwyn as soon as possible. I will write for the forces in the Moon’s Tear as well, so they will open the gates when he arrives there.” And now, to the trickiest part. “I beg your leave to use the Downworlder Alliance’s seal in those letters. I lack authority to command them, as I am not king.”

Camille smiled fondly, still enamoured with the idea she would be able to seize the credit of their defense plan. “Of course, my dearest. I am not afraid to admit I cannot wait for the moment you no longer have to resort to bureaucracy to yield your rightful place in this council.” 

“You have every right to that seal as any of us here,” Luke agreed. He had never been shy about who he thought should wear the Edomian crowd, especially not after Magnus had gone to him and warned him of the rats in their palace. “I thank you for respecting my people’s traditions.”

The Seelie Queen moved her hand and Lady Kaelie acted immediately. She walked to the back of the room, where the relics of the Alliance were stored and fished the seal, promptly delivering it into Magnus’ hand. 

“Here it is, your Highness,” the lady said in her sweet tone. Actions instead of words, for actions didn’t lie.

But Magnus did. He smiled his most humble smile. “Thank you for trusting me.” 

As everyone walked out of the room, the prince quickly excused Lord Baal and himself to his office. Magnus closed the door behind them, fingers playing with the Alliance’s seal. He couldn’t stop smirking to himself. The first part of his plan had worked.

Lord Baal raised an eyebrow at him, crossing his arms against his chest. “I have to say I do not enjoy being kept in the dark, my prince. For a second I was afraid your Highness would share the letter’s real content and I wondered if you had been spending too much time with Lord Ammon. Playing things straight.”

“It offends me that you would even consider that.” Magnus giggled and sat down. “Have you ever heard the saying ‘the pen is mightier than the sword’?”

“One could say I live my life by that saying,” Lord Baal said, fetching ink and parchment. “But I cannot see how it applies to this specific situation.”

Magnus smirked. He put on the Alliance’s seal on his finger and admired it for a second. “I’d like to prove that true. Now, I have everything I need to do it. An excuse to send off letters without anyone bothering me with prying questions. The seal to make all downworlders listen to my words. And the Seelie Queen looking elsewhere while I outplay her in her own game.” Magnus picked up a quill and sunk its point into the black ink. “Ragnor asked me to act and I shall oblige. Not one drop of downworlder blood will be spilled on the next moonless night. Start writing, my lord. We hold the end of the war in our hands.”

\---

Fury was written all over Sebastian’s face. His usually pale complexion had reddened gradually as each of his commanders came to inform him yet another downworlder noble family was not found within the walls of Idris. Their strongholds were found empty of arms and gold, nobody of any importance left behind. Only the Seelie nobility remained, and they seemed as perplexed by the rest of the downworlders’ disappearance as the nephilim were.

Hodge had been strong enough to lead the first wave of attack, but there had been no need of an attack when he realized Dis had been dismantled and only small folk was left behind. The strike was quickly aborted and Hodge had ordered a search in the city to find anyone that remained. One by one, the search parties return with the same piece of news.

All Edomian, Vampatrian and Lukenian noble families were gone, vanished to safety. 

Alec did what he could to hide a smile. The city was untouched and the people had been left unharmed. They had occupied Idris in peace and freed their families from the Alliance’s hold without a single strike of a sword.

To top it off, there were news from the Downworlder City. The Seelie Queen had been imprisoned, they weren’t certain why, but the Seelie knights wouldn’t have left Idris in such a haste if it wasn’t true.

Regardless, Alec had other things on his mind. Max had been waiting for him and Isabelle when they rode into the Lightwood keep. Alec had hugged his little brother, seeing him for the first time in both of their lives. Isabelle’s tales were right. Max was a small boy, but no less fierce for it. He had their mother’s eyes, their father’s smile and his own laugh.

“You’re very tall,” Max had said, tucked into Alec’s arms. It was not proper for a boy of seven to be in his older brother’s lap, for he was not a baby anymore, but Max didn’t seem to have care. After he was done naming every rune in Alec’s armor, the boy had simply climbed onto him.

Alec had snorted and messed up the boy’s hair. “I wasn’t tall when I was your age. You’ll grow too.”

Both Maryse and Robert had hugged Alec tight when they saw their eldest son back home. It had been a funny sensation and Alec couldn’t remember the last time his parents had touched him, but for that second, he had let himself go and enjoyed it. His lady mother had tears in her eyes, something that did not suit her, but neither did the broken smiles on her and lord father’s lips.

“You’re back,” Lord Robert kept saying, again and again, as if the words made it true. “My son is back.”

Going back to the royal castle in Idris had been difficult after that, but Alec knew his duties as Parabatai came before his duties to his family. He had forsaken that before, so he could not further besmirch his honor by refusing to meet the king for the final assessment of the capital's situation.

But as Alec stood there, hearing Aldertree report another downworlder family as missing, he knew he had done the right thing in informing Magnus of their plans beforehand. The Prince of Darkness had coordinated a retreat to safety, sacrificing the city, but not his people. Nobody had died that night and it was all because Magnus knew that a piece of land was not worth hundreds of lives. 

He had given up Idris, as he knew there was no defending it once the blessed army was there. The fighting would erupt on both sides of the walls, as the capital was still heavily populated by nephilims. In doing so, Magnus had single handedly both saved people from a bloody battle and not lost a single soldier in an impossible fight. In the midst of a terrible war, it was a night to celebrate.

Only not everyone seemed happy for the lack of fighting. King Sebastian was fuming from his father’s seat, fingers white from digging into the throne’s arms. He had been lusting for downworlder blood the entire march up to the north and had been visibly disappointed when he found the city already under the Clave’s control. For appearances’ sake, the king had managed to keep his rage under control until it was confirmed that the Seelie Queen was indeed a prisoner of the Downworlder Alliance.

“The bitch proved herself as useless as any other one of them,” Sebastian had said to that, not a trace of compassion in his voice. “Kill any Seelie that remains in the city. She was probably the one who opened her mouth about our attack here. Treacherous whore. Let her people suffer my retribution.”

Alec watched from his place of honor by the king’s side as Sebastian’s fury made him quieter and quieter. There was something unsettling about it, similar to assembling an heavenly fire bomb. Any heat could set it off and once the fire was out, it would consume everything in its path of destruction.

Jace barged into the throne’s room right after General Aldertree left with the orders to murder their former allies. The other Parabatai had also gone to see his family and it was no surprise to see how shaken that had left him. Lord Stephen Herondale had been as much of a prized champion as Jace was in his youth and one of the first to rally behind King Valentine in the uprising that lead to the Mortal War. If the death of his king had quenched the Golden Shadowhunter’s fire, the loss of his son left him broken. The once handsome lord had became a ghost of his former self and not even his ten years younger wife could make him smile. 

Hopefully, Lady Céline had welcomed him far better than Jace’s father could. Alec still remembered how quiet she had been when he was a child, how gentle and passive and so unlike Maryse or Queen Jocelyn. Lord Stephen had sent Jace to be a ward under Robert’s tutelage because he thought his wife’s un-nephilim like attitudes would have weakened his son. According to Izzy’s letters, though, it was Lady Céline’s tender care that stopped Lord Stephen from taking his own life and it was her soft voice that had kept the Herondale stronghold under control.

“Your Grace,” Jace spoke up as he approached the throne. His voice was devoid of any emotion and that was never a good sign. Alec swallowed hard, feeling his heart sink inside his chest. “The city is yours. I have done a final round in the streets and the only downworlders I could find were the children in the orphanage.” He gestured to six kids gingerly standing behind him. 

They were from all five kingdoms, if Alec’s judgement was correct. There was a small feral girl whose traces were clearly Lukenians and a tall, delicate Seelie boy. Two pale Vampatrians siblings stood in the back, behind a scrawny nephilim boy with light brown skin, who held the hand of a black skinned Edomian toddler. 

Sebastian stared at the children as if they were dirty smudging the floor of his castle. “What demon possessed you to bring them to me?”

“They come from a mixed orphanage, a place called Praetus Lupus,” Jace reported with resignation. There was a stubbornness to the way he spoke, something Alec recognized. A sense of discontent. “The caretakers were Lukenians. They were killed before we arrived and these children hid behind their beds. The woman who told me all this spat in their direction. It was not safe for them in the streets. I have sworn to protect the innocent and they are innocent.”

“The innocent,” Sebastian repeated, scorn coloring his voice. He climbed out of his throne and walked up to where Jace stood. Alec followed him closer, like a shadow. The king didn’t seem to notice him at all. “I don’t see innocents. I see downworlder spawn.” He looked at the nephilim boy. “You. Don’t touch it. I command you.”

The boy didn’t answer, but neither did he let go of the younger boy. He just stared at the king with unimpressed brown eyes. The lack of answer made Sebastian’s hand start shaking, itching, and he brought it to the tilt of his sword.

And then the boy tilted his chin up. “My brother is not an ‘it’,” he said in a calm, controlled voice.

What happened next was too fast to even scare the children. Sebastian unsheathed half of his sword, but Alec held his arm in place before the blade was fully out. At the same time, Jace put himself in front of the children, hand on the dagger hanging from his hip. The room had gone deadly quiet, but there was only one thing Alec saw: the shock in Jace’s expression as he realized what their king had tried to do.

“Your Grace,” Alec said, surprising himself with how guttural his own voice sounded, “there are important matters to discuss. Such as the rescue of the Seelie Queen.”

Sebastian turned to him with a vicious glare in his eyes. “What?” He spat out, letting go of his sword and stepping away from Alec’s grip.

“The Alliance has no other option besides attacking,” Alec explained in a cold, calculating voice. “They will throw all they have at us, otherwise they lose everything. They hold the Seelie Queen now, and so they control her army. History proves we cannot defeat all four of them.”

“Do you have a point to this rant, Lord Alec?” Sebastian hissed, but at least now Alec had his full attention. Jace took the opportunity to take away the children, out of the king’s sight.

Alec nodded shortly. “Allow me to go on a rescue mission. I can do the trip and come back before their troops arrive if I go by myself. By the blessing of the Angel, I will save the queen and bring her army to our side once more. She will have no choice but to fight and we will be that much surer to win.”

Despite his neutral expression, all Alec could hear was how fast his heart was beating. Suspicion was all over Sebastian’s face as he looked at Alec. He narrowed his eyes. “You think you can do that? You, who has always been the lesser of Hodge’s pupils? You, who lay with other men? Don’t think I don’t know the kind of perversions the Edomian prince made you do. I didn’t blame you, Alec, you did what you had to do to survive. But it has tarnished you. By my mercy, that taint has been removed but-”

“Yes, me,” Alec interrupted him. He hated the words he had to speak next, but he needed Sebastian to let him go. “The Prince of Darkness’ reputation is well known. He claims to have slept with thousands of people. He doesn’t think, he lusts. I can use that lust, make him open the gates of the Downworlder City for me.”

Sebastian sneered loudly. “He won’t just open the gates of the city for you.”

“Whatever it takes,” Alec said, over the disdainful chuckles of the other officials. He focused on Hodge’s expression, the only one that stared at them, unamused. It helped Alec find a center, despite the humiliation and rage within him. But why did he feel so cold? It hurt to keep that up, to let them laugh at Magnus. Just a little more. _Just enough to convince them you don’t care_. “I shall bring the Seelie army back or die trying.”

Alec could see the exact moment when Sebastian decided that he wouldn’t care whichever happened. “Do as you will. You have ten days, which will be the time their army will take to arrive. Get the whore back and attack them in the rear. This mission will give you practice on that regard.” 

Gritting his teeth, Alec barely remembered to bow before leaving the room. Jace was still in the corridor, sitting on the ground with the orphans. The Vampatrian girls listened to his lively tale with fixed eyes while the Seelie boy blushed every time Jace winked at him. Alec smiled and squatted next to the nephilim boy and the Edomian toddler.

“You were very brave,” he said when the older boy squinted at him. “Defending your brother like that.”

Jace stopped the tale, watching the scene carefully. The boy’s shoulders were tense up until Alec mentioned the smaller one. “Max is not an ‘it’,” he repeated stubbornly.

Alec nodded. “No, he isn’t.” He smiled at Max, who was staring at him with big, curious eyes. “My little brother is called Max too.”

“Are you a knight?” Max asked and hid behind his older brother. “Raf said I could be a knight when I grew up.”

“He was telling you the truth,” Jace said gently. “You should always believe your older brother, even when you think you know better. Chances are, you don’t. Chances are, he was right all along, but you were too stubborn to see it. And you’ll be sorry for it.”

Max nodded, considering the words. “I got Raf in trouble with that scary man, didn’t I?”

Alec smiled reassuringly at him. “It doesn’t matter what happened in the past. You’re both safe now. Besides, I don’t think Raf minds protecting you, even if you don’t realize it yet. Do you love your brother, Raf?”

“Yes,” the boy answered immediately, no hesitation at all.

“I love my brothers too,” Alec said in the same way. He looked over to Jace, who looked incredibly relieved. “I’ll be gone for ten days. Can you and Izzy hold things here while I’m gone?”

Jace nodded. “I’ll take these children to my mother. She will be happy to take care of them, I think. She always wanted more children, she told me. They will make her smile.”

“We all could use more smiles.” Alec squeezed his brother’s shoulder and got up, finding his way to the Parabatai Chambers in the royal palace. Facing Sebastian was not nearly as difficult as what he was about to do next. 

Alec got out of his armor and wrote a letter for Jace and Isabelle, explaining his plan in their secret language. And then, he went to sleep.

\---

Magnus sighed, laying on his bed. For the first time since he had arrived at Downworlder City, he was having trouble sleeping. Luke, Camille and him had spent all day receiving news of the occupation in Idris, coordinating what they would let spread and what to retain. 

Now that the Seelie Queen had been imprisoned in her chambers, there was no reason to speak in secret in their meetings, which was very fortunate. It was also highly unusual to Magnus; working with people he trusted.

The whole affair with the queen had been done fairly quickly. Lady Maia and Lord Ammon, alongside a handful of soldiers, had taken down the Seelie knights during the night. Of the ladies that accompanied the queen, only one had perished in combat, though Lady Kaelie had given Lord Ammon a run for his title as Master of War. 

In the end, the Seelie Queen found herself confined to the extent of her chambers, being kept away from her own ladies and attended only by Camille’s bloody maidens. By the time Magnus was informed their strike had been successful, however, the entire city had heard of the imprisonment. Seelies revolted in the streets and more than one attempt to free the queen had been done. 

Magnus had no doubts that, by now, word had reached the nephilim forces as well. Evacuating Idris and Dis had left a bitter taste of defeat in Magnus’ mouth, but it had been the right thing to do. The downworlder families were safe and on their way back home. With his letters, Magnus had made sure over three hundred people were not put to the sword of a madman. 

That was a victory in itself. And so was taking down the Seelies from Alicante’s side. If it came to a final confrontation, and it appeared that was the only option left, their three armies could hold against only one, no matter how powerful the nephilim were. The field had been evened out at last.

Sighing, Magnus closed his eyes. There was no point in dwelling on plans he could not make on his own. Battle strategies were Luke’s specialty. Even Camille had more experience on the matter, considering the many civil wars the Vampatrians fought during the years of her realm. As Prince of Darkness, Magnus had done his part and so he deserved a good night of sleep. 

And he would get it, curse all the Demons in Hell.

Slowly and timidly, sleep came at last. Magnus felt his body feeling lighter and his senses numbing as his mind travelled to another reality. One where everything was just fine, where the fate of his people didn’t depend on his ability to make the right choice. One where his Alexander was still by his side, smiling that sweet smile of his, and not hundreds of miles away, out of reach and plotting his death.

A gasp of air and Magnus realized he hadn’t been dreaming as his mind sunk deeper into that sweet reality. At least, it wasn’t a regular dream. Everything around him grew blurred out of a sudden, as if his eyes could not see anymore. But just like a thousand times before, his vision adjusted, becoming sharply clear. His cat eyes had opened, once again without invitation. 

Whatever the Demons wanted Magnus to see this time, he had no desire to know. His last demonic dream had brought no good to him. It had only been that funny thing with brightening starts and fleeing birds. Fire crisping down, withering to ashes. Useless gibberish. 

“Magnus...?” 

The Prince froze in place. He was back in his room, not that copy he reconstructed in Downworlder City, but the real one. He recognized his desk by the window, the chipped leg he had crushed into when he was just a boy. He knew where there was a stain of faery whisky on the rug beneath his bed. He was home.

No, it wasn’t just home. The room itself wasn’t the only thing Magnus recognized. He was wearing different clothes than the ones he put on to sleep: a silky blouse that exposed his chest, a few of his favorite necklaces. Magnus was also lying down on cushions on the floor, a cup of wine in his hand. 

And in front of him, Alexander in his customary black attire. His beard was thicker than it had been in Edom, his hair messier. It made him look older and younger at the same time, as if a life time had passed, but it wasn’t enough to rob the innocence out of those hazel eyes.

It took sheer strength not to let the cup slip from his fingers. They were back to that fateful night they had dined together, a few days before the Victory Tourney. It had all started there. 

No, they weren’t back exactly. There was something different. Alec looked around, surprised by their surroundings. He had his hand curled around his silver arrow pendant, holding onto it as if his life depended on him not letting it go. It made Magnus touch his arrow pendant too.

“It worked,” Alec whispered, half amazed. “I wasn’t sure of what I was doing but it worked.” He looked at Magnus and then he did the one thing that set the prince off the edge. He smiled.

Magnus threw the content of his cup at Alec’s face. 

“You left me.” He was shaking and his voice had been much higher than usual. “You almost killed Madzie and then you made me wish I was dead.”

Shame and guilt flashed in Alec’s eyes, but to his credit he did not avoid Magnus’ flaming gaze. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, are you?” Magnus scoffed incredulously. All he wanted was an apology, for Alec to acknowledge how much he had hurt him. Now he had one, but he was still hurting. “About which part exactly? The one in which you committed a capital crime? The one in which you put a child at risk? A child you love? Or the part where you started a war? Maybe you are sorry for following a lunatic like your father did before you, hm? How about that?”

_How about the part that you left me? I love you but you left._

Alec winced and brought a hand to wipe the wine out of his face. “All of those,” he whispered but then his expression grew harder. “But I am not sorry I rebelled against the Alliance. I am not sorry I got to meet my little brother. To hug my mother again. To see my father. I am not sorry for wanting to go home. I am not sorry for freeing my people from the camps all over Alicante. I am not sorry for fighting for freedom.”

“You were safe!” Magnus kneeled, his hands curling into fists. “It was Alicante that started the war, Alicante that killed so many of us. The Alliance did nothing wrong.”

“Neither did I. I was a boy of ten when those people died.” Alec gasped for air and he seemed to be physically hurting as he spoke. Magnus wasn’t alone in that, then. “I was one and ten when I was told I was never to see my family again, unless my capturer wanted to show me around in a tourney that celebrated the day my life fell apart. I was allowed to talk to my sister, to see Jace, to laugh with Simon, but only for a week or so every two years, and only if I did right by Edom. If my parents so much as disagreed with the Alliance, I would be the one with a knife at my neck to make them docile.”

Magnus shook his head. He wanted was to hug Alec, to tell him he understood. Tell him he was going to be fine. That they were going to be fine. Instead, he kept raging. “I would never let my father touch you. He only managed to do it because you incriminated yourself and-”

“Then where were you in the last ten years?” Alec gasped loudly, a tremulous thing. “You care for me now, but where were you before that? When I was a scared and helpless, where were any of you? Ragnor, Tessa, you. You let it happen. You helped it to happen. I-I do not… I do not owe any of you an explanation. Being kind to me didn’t make me any less of a prisoner. You’re good, Magnus, but the Alliance is not.” 

Tears stung at the back of Magnus’ eyes, insistent and uninvited. He inhaled sharply. Camille’s vicious words came to his mind, washing away the anger and only leaving guilt behind. It was true. Before Magnus wanted to bed Alec, he had never even thought of his father’s hostage, of how the boy’s life had been or hadn’t been. He hadn’t care at all. Nobody had looked at the children they were snatching away from home, at the hundreds of nephilims imprisoned, at the away Alicante was bleeded out of its resources. 

That was the way of war and it would’ve been even worse if the Alliance hadn’t won. But it didn’t make it right. It didn’t make it fair.

Magnus had been to the Mortal War and the memories still haunted him. Alec hadn’t, and yet he was the one who lost everything. “I’m sorry you had to pay for someone else's crimes,” Magnus said at last. “And I’m sorry I thought my love could fix that.”

Alec winced again, but the storm in his eyes was gone. He sighed and closed his eyes, looking very small for a man of his stature. “I’m sorry I broke both of our hearts. I didn’t plan on falling in love with you, or on you falling in love with me. But I didn’t let that stop me either and it hurts. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you.”

“Oh, Alexander,” Magnus whispered. “How I wish I could kiss you right now.”

“Why don’t you?” Alec asked quietly. He shrugged and pointed to himself. “You threw wine in my face. You can kiss me.”

Magnus chuckled lightly. “Unfortunately, that is not how a dream conversation works, my darling. We can interact with the dream itself, but not with each other. And if you show me something written, I will not remember it when I wake up. There are limitations to the magic.”

“That’s disappointing,” Alec mumbled and crossed his arms. It made Magnus giggle, but he took a sip of his wine to cover it. But the faint smile on his lips died when Magnus saw how troubled Alec looked. “Magnus, I need to see you. Really see you.”

The prince nodded. He knew exactly how that felt. “I wish I could smuggle you from this dream into my room, Alexander. But even if I could, there’s the small complication of the war.”

“It is because of the war that we need to talk.” Alec looked at Magnus and his expression betrayed nothing. Better this way; a dream conversation was no way to talk of such matters. “I made a mistake in trusting Sebastian. I need to make it right again. Informing the attack on Idris was a good start, but it is not enough.”

Magnus couldn’t help the fond smile on his lips. Of course it had been Alec who helped Ragnor with his letter. How could that never have occurred to him before?

“We can’t just elope to a safe place, Alexander. No matter how much we want to.”

“No,” Alec agreed carefully, tilting his head to the side. “But we can meet in secret. As soon as I wake up, I will ride south to the Spiral Labyrinth. I can make the trip in four days, maybe less. Please go, Magnus. I beg you.”

It was a fool’s plan. They could not drop everything, not when the final battle was about to start. Magnus was needed in the council. Luke and Camille needed him. His people needed him. He had a duty to them, as their prince and future king.

And so far, duty had always spoke louder than his heart. 

Magnus looked at Alec, at the man that he loved, and smiled quietly. “I’ll be there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rise Malec, rise.
> 
> Big, huge, enormous thank you to [QueenCow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenCow/pseuds/QueenCow). You rock my world.
> 
> I'm on [Tumblr](http://sweetillusionketz.tumblr.com/) and on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/Ketz_CML/). Kudos and comments are always appreciated! I'll be tracking #adop on twitter, if anyone feels like live-tweeting :)
> 
> Ketz


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys :)
> 
> It's time for some malec <3
> 
> But before we start, one has to prove themselves to be able to enter the Spiral Labyrinth. Can you answer this?
> 
> \---
> 
> At a crossroad there are three identical ghosts: Truth, Lie and Wisdom. Truth always speaks the truth, Lie always lies and Wisdom does not follow a rule. The first ghost says “next to me is Truth”. The second says “I am Wisdom” and the third says “Next to me is Lie”.
> 
> Who is who?

Alec arrived at the break of dawn, after three days of riding South until his horse all but gave up on loping. The animal was neighing impatiently when Alec dismounted and gave it water, just as it did during the entire trip. It had been a hard run, but worth it now that he had arrived.

The Spiral Labyrinth was everything Alec expected and so much more. 

From the icy mountains in the North of Alicante to the warm beaches of south of Faeland, everyone knew the Spiral Labyrinth was the greatest architectural achievement of mankind. Rumors spread through the lands, describing the beauty of the twin columns, the open terraces, the never ending stash of books. 

The real castle was much more impressive than the rumors could ever paint it. As the sun rose from the earth, mist surrounded the rocky walls, adding to its mystical aura. But every once and again, light found its course to the castle and the walls shone in a thousand colors. It was a marvelous vision, something of dreams.

And lately, all Alec could do was think of dreams. In truth, of one dream in particular. Every time he closed his eyes, Alec saw Magnus, how beautiful he looked, how well. His prince had been furious at him, and rightfully so, but his fury had burned out as soon as it came. Magnus was always intense and his presence had awakened something inside Alec, an urge he couldn’t suppress. 

A serving boy rushed to meet Alec as he approached the castle. Alec let him tend to his horse and walked up to the front door. A single guardsman stood guarding it, looking straight into nothing. It seemed like an easy target, if Alec had malicious intentions. Of course, it was but a rouse. Archers hovered over them, watching. There was only one way to make it into the Spiral Labyrinth and that was by answering a question.

One could choose between three types of intelligence; logic, linguistics and memory. The guardsman would propose a problem, pose a riddle or require a definition, depending on the person’s preference. Every person that desired to enter the Spiral Labyrinth would have three chances to answer correctly, or they would be denied entrance for the period of six months. 

If one needed all three guesses, they would be allowed into the lower floors, where they could find everything there was on nature and the world as it was. If one got the right answer at their second attempt, the halls of history and humanity would be opened to them. 

Alec needed to be right in first guess. He wanted access to the private rooms, the ones where the scholars would stay. Those were located alongside the top floors, where matters of the spirit and religion were guarded.

The guardsman stared at Alec, his expression blank. “Logic, linguistics or memory?” he asked.

“Logic,” Alec said, swallowing hard. 

“There are three boxes, identical in every way,” said the guardsman. “Inside one of them is the key to enter the Spiral Labyrinth. On the top of each box, there is a statement, but only one of those statements is true.” He continued when Alec nodded to show his understanding. “The first says ‘the key is in this box’. The second says ‘the key is not in this box’. The third says “the key is not in box one.” Which box has the key?”

Alec gritted his teeth. A three-option question was the only one that didn’t allow third guess, for it would not be an answer, just the result of elimination. Alec ought to have expected a trick like that; as a nephilim, Edomians had always made it more difficult for him to play their mind games. It would not be different now that their kingdoms were at war, even in a neutral place like that.

Considering for a moment, Alec thought quietly. The guardsman didn’t move as he worked the problem in his mind and reached a conclusion. “The key is in the second box.”

For just a second, it seemed as if he had gotten it wrong. The guardsman arched an eyebrow at Alec, quiet as stone, but nodded at last. “Knowledge is the true shield against the Demons,” he recited and opened the door for Alec to enter. 

Once on the inside of the castle, Alec realized why it was called the way it was. All stair cases, and there were dozens of them, were constructed in the shape of spirals. The way they stood made it hard to distinguish where they started and ended, and how to navigate them without getting lost in that sea of books and scrolls.

He was allowed anywhere in the castle that he desired to go. Any section he desired to read. Alec felt a sting of sadness in his chest. He had always wanted to explore that place, to read and learn for days and nights. But that wasn’t why he was there that day.

Alec sat down at the main hall, leaning his back against the wall, and closed his eyes, waiting.

It took about three hours, in which Alec dozed into and out of sleep, until he heard noises at the entrance. A horse neighing, someone unmounting. 

“Your Highness,” the guardsman said and just the title set Alec’s heartbeat racing, “logic, linguistics or memory?”

“Last time it was logic,” Magnus’ voice sounded calm, despite the slight breathlessness, “so let’s move on to linguistics.”

A snort escaped Alec’s lips. He missed Magnus’ unwavering confidence, his wit, him. The guardsman continued. “If you have me, you want to share me. If you share me, you haven't got me. What am I?”

Magnus sighed. “An easy one at last. The answer is ‘a secret’. Now I have a question for you, where can I find my heart?”

The doors opened and the light of the morning shone on Alec as he stood up, waiting for his prince. Magnus smiled brightly as he saw him, relief, happiness and longing framing his face as well as the black powder on his eyes. “There he is,” the prince said.

Alec exhaled, realizing just then that he had been holding his breathe. They were in public, though no word of what happened inside of the Spiral Labyrinth ever left if it was not supposed to. The scholars understood the need for secrecy better than most. Still, the place deserved respect.

He kneeled, bowing his head to the Prince of Darkness. Magnus took a few steps to him and leaned forward, touching Alec under the chin. “Rise, my knight,” he said and Alec did. 

Magnus brushed his fingers over Alec’s chin and lips, slightly enough to send a shiver down Alec’s spine, and then retrieved his hand. The mixture between the tender skin and the hardness of the rings lingered and it made it hard for Alec to focus.

“I believe we have much to discuss, Alexander,” Magnus said and even if his voice was controlled, there was a hunger in his beautiful eyes. The prince blinked and it was gone as he turned to a servant. “I had sent word of my arrival. Was my usual study readied for me?”

“Yes, your Highness,” the girl said. She had a pendant of her own, double wings. Probably a lord’s daughter in her last years of studying. Alec had to suppress a smile as he imagined a young Magnus serving the Labyrinth’s visitors. “It will my pleasure to take you there.”

They followed the little lady to the back of the castle, passing through stashes of books and scrolls on both sides. By the time they started climbing stairs, however, Alec was absolutely sure he wouldn’t be able to retrace their way back to the door. He gave up on memorizing every turn and instead focused on studying Magnus.

It might be the time away or the wariness of the war, but he seemed a little different somehow. His skin was cleared, the bronze in it more prominent. His hair was just as styled, but it shone brighter. Magnus had always been elegant, but now his presence took over the entire space, impossible to deny or ignore. 

It felt wrong to think of him as a prince when Magnus had become a king.

The girl stopped when they reached the end of the last floor and indicated a door in the dormitory alley. Magnus thanked her kindly and she left them after throwing a curious glance at Alec’s direction. She blushed when she realized he had seen her.

“I think she fancies you,” Magnus teased and he solved the combination that would allow him entrance to the room. Each door had a mechanism that accepted a code of demonic runes, a language long forgotten. Not to the Labyrinth’s users, of course. “I don’t blame her. That beard suits you.”

Alec snorted. “Jace doesn’t think so.”

Magnus opened the door and gestured for Alec to enter. “How is he? And your family? Lady Isabelle, your little brother?”

“Safe,” Alec said and watched as Magnus locked the door. “But I don’t want to talk about them now. I don’t want to talk at all.”

“What do you want to do?” The prince asked and turned around to face him.

Alec didn’t answer him, or at least, not with words. Instead, Alec cupped Magnus’ face with his hands and pressed their lips together in an urgent kiss, a kiss that he had longed for since the moment he had watched Magnus leave the dungeons at Edom’s royal palace. A kiss to prove there was no lingering resentment between them, no doubts, no sadness.

Only love.

Magnus whimpered against Alec’s mouth and pulled him closer, hands curling in a firm grip at Alec’s waist. Alec pressed their bodies together, feeling Magnus’ warmth against him as the prince proceeded to unhook the knots of Alec’s jacket, throwing it carelessly on the floor just to do the same with Alec’s shirt. Moving his lips to Magnus’ neck, Alec sucked on the skin, biting it to make Magnus moan and dig his nails into Alec’s back.

As Alec pulled away to breathe, Magnus’ eyes beamed. “You still have it,” he murmured, looking at the arrow pendant on Alec’s naked chest.

“Of course I do.” Alec barely minded the surprise in the prince’s voice as he started to work on Magnus’ robe.

“But the dream stone won’t-” Magnus said, his hands helping Alec as he struggled against the fancy clothes.

But Alec shook his head and stopped Magnus with another kiss. “I don’t care about the dream stone. It’s a gift from you. They’ll have to kill me to get it off of my neck.”

Something feral glimmered in Magnus’ eyes, almost predatory. It made Alec’s mouth go dry and his heart skipped a beat when a sly smirk formed on Magnus’ lips. “Alexander,” Magnus said, voice like silk as he got rid of his robe and revealed a seamless blouse underneath, “let me reward your devotion.”

Alec inhaled through his mouth, slowly, nodding at once. He let Magnus back him towards the huge bed in the middle of the room and made no objections as the prince pushed him down to lay on his back. 

Magnus grabbed Alec’s hips and yanked the trousers away, his eyes never leaving Alec’s. He then hovered over him, kissing Alec’s lips, neck, chest. Every inch of Alec’s skin was touched, kissed, loved. At every contact, Alec threw his head back, losing his mind in pleasure. There was no war, no guilt, nothing to worry about.

And then Magnus’ hot mouth closed on Alec’s cock and even thinking lost its meaning.

There was only Magnus and him, and Magnus was smiling as his lips went up and down, drawing moanings and pleadings from Alec. It was too much and not enough at the same time, and gasped for air, wishing it never stopped.

But it did. Alec’s eyes shot open in a protest and Magnus smirked, licking his own lips. “Tell me what you want, Alexander,” he purred as he removed the rest of his own clothes, throwing them on the floor.

Alec focused his vision on the two pendants, the arrow and cat-eyes, drifting in the air as Magnus sucked on his own fingers, watching Alec attentively. Alec parted his lips just enough and Magnus understood it, bringing his fingers for Alec to taste. When Magnus took them away, Alec let a whimper escape.

The first finger slipped in easily, but the second made Alec arch his back high, a broken moan leaving his lips uninvited. As Magnus stretched him open, he murmured praises at Alec’s ear and the vibration of his voice was almost too much.

Alec moved his head and captured Magnus’ lips with his own. “Fuck me, your Majesty.”

Magnus smiled again, pulling the fingers out after a last thrust. “I shall, my love.”

And he did.

\---

When they woke up, the sun was past its highest point at the sky. Magnus had fallen asleep in Alec’s arms, after both of them were too tired to keep whispering to each other. Alec was still dreaming, his handsome face turned even more gorgeous with that peaceful expression on it. It matched the rest of the room, the warm light coming through the windows, the gentle breeze that kissed their exposed skin. 

For a moment, Magnus let himself believe that was exactly how it should be. He had wanted to bring Alec there, to spend their time talking, reading, discovering new things together. If they grew tired of it, they could always retreat to the study and find other activities to busy themselves with. 

It was perfect, as perfect as an illusion could be. But it was an illusion nonetheless.

War brought them to where they were, war and treachery. Before they had fallen asleep, Alec had told him all about Sebastian’s cruelty and unruliness. How Alec’s dream of going back home was quickly becoming a nightmare, how his promised prince had turned into a vile tyrant, so consumed in hatred, he had lost sight of home.

“Sebastian came to us saying he wanted to go home,” Alec had said as Magnus stroked his hair, “and I think he did, at first. But as we advanced, as we took the camps and freed our people, going home was not enough anymore. He wanted revenge, retribution to what was done to his father. It didn’t matter if king Valentine was right or wrong, if the downworlders living in Alicante were involved in his death or not. Sebastian wants to crush everyone and everything in his way. He won’t settle for less.”

It broke Magnus’ heart to hear the sadness in Alec’s voice. From all five kingdoms, Alicante had the longest tradition, the most immutable. It was the only one that still revered sons above daughters, that followed old ways. Sebastian was Valentine’s son and that in itself entitled him to Alec’s love and devotion. Every violent tendency, every outburst was praised by those who should have taught them better, until it became unquestionable. 

But now there was nobody to tame the consequences and they were dire, for downworlders and for nephilim alike. There was no way to pass Sebastian’s savagery as bravery, no softening of his unsuitability to rule.

And so, all Alec had been taught to believe crumbled right in front of him, after he had gambled all he had on a madman who was told he owned the world. It was no wonder Alec, sweet, dutiful Alec was so desperate to stop Sebastian, that he blamed himself for believing the violent boy had tailored his impulses into greatness.

It was not his fault. 

“Hey,” Alec said, his voice croaked from sleep. “You’re awake.”

Magnus smiled fondly and traced the lines of Alec’s face, as if he wanted to commit them to memory. “And hungry. I was thinking of sending someone to fetch us food.”

Alec frowned, not yet opening his eyes. He grabbed Magnus’ hand. “That implies getting out of bed, my prince.”

Chuckling, Magnus deposited a kiss on Alec’s forehead. “Something we’ll have to do in the near future, if we want to be at Downworlder City tonight.”

That made Alec open his eyes. “The Downworlder City? Tonight?”

“Yes, my darling.” Magnus cocked his chin up and smirked. “I thought about what you said, of how Sebastian won’t settle just for Alicante. I may have a plan to bait him into submission, but I will need the Alpha Major and Queen Camille to agree with my plan. It is very risky.”

Alec paused to consider the words, leaning on his elbow as Magnus sat on the bed and reached out for parchment. “If we are seen entering Downworlder City together, Sebastian will think something is wrong. He has spies, people willing to betray the Alliance for money.”

“And that is why I pretend to smuggle you into the city,” Magnus said as he wrote. “There are secret passages everywhere and I know just the person that knows them all by heart. Remember Lord Baal?”

A grimace showed on Alec’s face. “He thinks I’m stupid.”

Magnus pushed his lips together, stopping what he was writing. It was very true that the Master of Secrets didn’t hold the nephilim as highly intellectual people, but, in his defense, it wasn’t as if Alicante had proven its intelligence in the last decade or so. “Prove him wrong.”

The incentive didn’t work half as well as it was intended to, considering Alec sulked until they had something to eat and their horses were ready to be ridden. As they left the Spiral Labyrinth, though, Alec finally resigned himself to his fate. He accepted the long green cape that covered his black nephilim clothes and face and the fact that he would just have to trust Magnus with a dignified expression and rode to where Magnus had instructed Lord Baal to wait once they approached Downworlder City.

The moon was bright in the sky when Magnus arrived at the palace. He was informed that Camille had invited Luke and his wife for a late dining at the Vampatrian wing, so Magnus marched straight there. He passed by Princess Clary playing cards with Lady Maia and decided not to involve them in that conversation.

“Your Highness,” queen Jocelyn exclaimed as Magnus joined them at the balcony where the food was being served. Camille could be many things, but she was not obtuse. If she was having the Alpha Major for a meal, it would be under the light of the moon and filled with red meat. “You’re back already.”

Magnus nodded and gestured for one of the blood maidens to fill up his cup. He had told the others he would be gone for a couple of days, for personal matters, and offered no further explanations. Luke hadn’t seem convinced, but he had learned to trust Magnus. There were no objections from Lukos.

Camille, on the other hand, had tried to pry more information from him by personally bringing him a basket of fruits for the way. She had taken to opportunity to pose poignant questions, all of those Magnus ignored.

It seemed she wasn’t done. “Is that good or bad for your personal matters?” Camille asked, voice like a knife.

“Good for me,” Magnus answered. “What it is for the Alliance will depend upon you.”

“Did Ragnor send news again? Is he well?” Luke asked, immediately forgetting his food.

Magnus had to force a fond smile down at the man’s concern. “Not Ragnor, my lord. Another informant, better placed in the nephilim ranks. He tells me king Sebastian is not planning on just taking the country back, he wants revenge on all downworlders. My informant also says there is a rupture between the king and the Parabatais, and it grows wider every day. Sir Alec and Sir Jace do not approve of the king’s methods.”

Luke nodded, not seeming surprised at the least. He had seen to Jace’s upbringing closely and he knew Alec well enough. “Did they send this informant? Are they willing to betray Sebastian?”

“If it means saving their people from a tyrant reborn, yes.” Magnus made a point of not looking at Jocelyn as he spoke. The whole situation was much too close to what she had lived. “If we can guarantee no innocent nephilim will pay for Sebastian’s crimes, then they will be glad to stop him.”

Camille huffed in disdain. “I say we let them kill each other. These children started this war, they were the ones who allowed Sebastian to rise to power. Let them burn for it.” She looked at Magnus and although her expression was gentle, her eyes were not. “He’s using you again, my dear. To clean up his mess, to cage the monster he released. Don’t you see?”

Swallowing down his wine, Magnus stared blankly at her. “I see plenty. I mean no offense, my lord and my lady, but as of now we might have a chance to defeat Alicante on the battlefield. If we have the Parabatai at our side, we will. All they ask in return is their home back. No more camps on Alicante, no hostages.”

It was a hard deal to sell. For ten years, the downworld has profited from the exploration of Alicante, from the humiliation of the nephilim. There was no way to give it back without crashing the economy of all four kingdoms. No way to be sure the nephilim would just stay up North and not seek retribution.

And Luke knew that. So did Jocelyn. “What is there to stop Alicante from attacking? My son,” her voice trembled just slightly, but it was very audible, “is not the only one who thinks the Alliance has wronged them. The Clave itself believes so. Say Sebastian is struck then; the Clave will rule instead and they are just as bloodthirsty as he is.”

In a way, it was shocking to see a mother say such things of a child, regardless of how true they were. Jocelyn didn’t see Sebastian as a man, but as Valentine’s heir come again. She bore the responsibility of giving birth to him as sin, as a horrible deed she had brought to the world. 

Monsters were not born; they became wicked with time. Sebastian never stood a chance at goodness and now he embraced evilness wholeheartedly.

“Lady Isabelle Lightwood will soon become Counselor and she won’t oppose the dissolution of her betrothal to the king.” Magnus played with a few of his rings. Alec had been very clear about his regret in agreeing to his sister’s engagement. “She can control the current Clave until the new generation rises to take their parents’ chairs. They don’t want a war.”

Camille shook her head, unrelenting. “Of course they don’t. No matter the result, they will lose. If we win the war, they will pay for their rebellion with their heads. If they win, they will have given the throne to a monster. Not very kind prospects either way.”

“The only thing we can do is win the war,” Jocelyn said, her tone resolute. “Once Sebastian is gone, the Clave will submit to the Alliance again. If Sir Alec or Jace is willing to help, request them to kill their king. As Parabatai, they have access to Sebastian at all times.”

That made Camille smile. “Yes. Let them put their swords where their mouths are.”

Hearing the two women made Magnus’ heart sink in his chest. They claimed for violence, for extreme measures. There was no chance for a peaceful resolution in their minds.

Luke reached for his wife, grabbing her hand gently. It was only then that Magnus realized how much the queen had been shaking. The notion soothed Magnus’ apprehensions. Though Camille seemed fine in letting the war rage on, Jocelyn’s plan came from a place of fear. She saw her husband in Sebastian’s crown, her nightmare came again. And she reacted accordingly.

“We cannot ask Jace nor Alec to forsaken their vows. Not like this,” Luke said, calmly but leaving no place for protest. “This treachery would destroy a man’s reputation, and worse, his conscious. The Parabatai made a vow and they cannot be the ones to break it, not without having to suffer the dire consequences.” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy and I certainly don’t wish it on those boys.”

An ally. If Magnus could convince him to agree to his plan, then there was a chance to end this war without violence. Camille would have no choice but to join their decision, as she would be out voted. It was a start.

And a start was all Magnus needed. “Sebastian is waiting for an attack on Alicante. It would be foolish for us to move our troops there, tire them with a trip and fight on their territory. The nephilim will give all they have to protect their homeland. Once, a nephilim soldier was worth three downworlders in battle. I do not wish to know if that still stands.”

Jocelyn frowned, but it was the Alpha Major who spoke. “You cannot mean to get him to come to us. That will put an army at our borders.”

“The risk is big, yes.” Magnus gritted his teeth, not letting any doubt slip to his face. He had to look confident, to make they believe in the plan, even if he didn’t. “But making them come to us will take the soldiers from their homes once again, will take apart families that just got their freedom back. They will no longer be fighting for home, but for vengeance. Instead of being able to rejoice with their families, they will have to take on arms, again, and fight, again. If it comes to battle, the less motivated the soldiers, the better.”

“If it comes to battle, my prince?” Luke said, and he was gracious enough to keep the skeptical tone from his voice.

Magnus nodded. “Once they arrive at Downworlder City, we will talk to Sebastian. Treat him like a king, and not a spoiled boy. Give him a chance to rule instead of destroy. If that does not work, if he doesn’t accept our terms, we will give him a choice. Represent his people in single combat or allow hundreds to perish in open battle. He will have to accept or forever be seen as a coward.”

The tension on the balcony could be cut by a knife. Luke’s lips were pressed together in a thin line as he considered it. By his side, Jocelyn shook her head, although her eyes had a different sparkle on them. 

Camille just burst out in disdainful laughter. She stood up, wiping a tear from her eye. “You cannot be serious, my dear. I will refresh myself for a minute or two, but when I come back, I expect to be able to talk war, not miraculous plans.” She sighed and retired to the inside room, shaking her head.

For a moment, Magnus was sure his plan had failed even before it had started. But then Luke nodded sharply. “I am willing to accept this plan, my prince. But I have one condition.” He looked over at his wife, his handsome face a mask of resolution. “I shall be the one who confronts him.”

“No,” Jocelyn said, panicked. “No, Luke, please. You can’t.”

“I can,” the Alpha Major had iron in his voice. “My love, I was not able to stop the father,” he said, not unkindly. “But I can stop the son. For our people’s sake, I must. For your sake, I shall. For Clary’s sake, I will.”

The love in Luke’s eyes tamed the storm of fear in Jocelyn’s. She was still apprehensive as she nodded, but Magnus couldn’t blame her. So was he. “It won’t come to that,” he tried reassuring her, but both knew Magnus could not make any promises.

Luke turned back to Magnus, eyes focused. “If it does, however, the Alliance has to be ready to go on without me. Especially if I lose the single combat and Sebastian insists on attacking the city. There must be a head to the army.”

Magnus blinked, surprised. He hadn’t even considered the possibility of losing Luke at all. That gave him a bigger fright than thinking of Sebastian descending on them with his entire army. “My lord, I don’t think I am the most suited to discuss military strategies with. I am no general.”

“And I am no politician.” The Alpha Major smiled pointedly. “But in times of war, leaders must be a bit of everything.” He moved the cutlery on the table in a rough representation of the world map. “It is noble to give Sebastian a chance to prove his worth as king, but we cannot forget his tendency to fits of rage. Now, I bid you to look at how the troops are disposed and tell me what you see, Prince of Darkness. How do we win this if it comes to war?”

It took a few moments, but Magnus finally saw it. “Oh.”

Luke smiled. “Yes.”

Once they were done discussing, Magnus decided there wasn’t anything else to say that night. Camille had came back at some point and barely paid any mind to the conversation. The entire meeting had tired Magnus to his bone and all he wanted to go back to Alec’s arms and enjoy his presence one more night before they had to part ways again, only to meet on the battlefield in less than a fortnight.

So he excused himself and found his way back to the main corridor of the Vampatrian wing. Magnus had been walking so fast, he almost tripped on his feet when a voice called him by name and not title.

“Magnus!” princess Clary exclaimed, rushing to him with the Lady Maia at her feet. “Please, tell me what you discussed. My mother won’t say a thing and I can’t stand this silence any longer. If you don’t tell me,” she said fiercely, hands curled up in fists besides her body, “I will find a way to discover, even if I have to ride to Idris and ask my brother.”

Lady Maia’s exasperated expression summarized everything Magnus thought about that bold statement, but he still admired Clary for her intensity. “I’m assuming you will leave right away, use the dark of night as a cover. Best go now that the Alpha Major and his queen are still enjoying strong wine.”

The girl blinked, disconcerted. She frowned when she realized he meant it as a mockery. “I am not jesting.”

“She really isn’t,” Lady Maia said, crossing her arms.

Magnus sighed. “I know, my darling.” He took Clary’s hands in his and came to a decision. “Come with me. I know someone who will be able to answer your questions better than I would ever be.”

Curiosity won over urgency and the princess calmed down. She exchanged a glance with Maia, who shrugged nonchalantly. Magnus took that as answer enough and started to guide them back to the Edomian wing when a door opened at his right and Magnus was pulled into the room without a chance of fighting.

“Look, I have somewhere I’d rather be right now,” the prince said to the dark figure who had just almost dislocated his shoulder, but Magnus’ protest died in his mouth when he saw who it was. “Raphael?”

The Undead rolled his eyes and closed the door as Clary and Maia followed Magnus. “Please, your Highness, scream louder. I don’t think the Seelie Queen heard you from her chambers.” Raphael glared as Magnus filled up his lungs, with every intention to scream his name. “I don’t have time for your childish games. I need your help.”

Magnus scoffed and crossed his arms. “My help? You disappear for weeks, ignore my messages, refuses to see me. And now you want my help? Why would I even consider helping your ungrateful as-”

“It’s about Simon,” Raphael cut Magnus off. “Simon and treachery.”

\---

Lord Baal hadn’t been waiting at the meeting point, like Magnus told Alec he would be. Instead, there was a girl at the edge of Downworlder City, and she couldn’t be older than eight. 

Cursing inwardly, Alec decided that he hated the plan already. But he trusted Magnus, so he would go with it.

The little girl barely waited for Alec to dismount before crawling into a passage hidden in the nearest house, precarious things made of wood and clay. There was no way for Alec to follow her through there and so he had to find another way in the shack, which he did, by pulling a few planks of wood apart.

Inside it, the only light came from a candle the little girl had just lit up. Alec wondered if he should let her handle the fire, but the girl was gone into a passage in the wall before he could voice his concern. With no other choice but to follow her, Alec sighed and played into Baal’s game. 

That meant descending steps and more steps into darkness, making turns and going up, just to go down again. The little girl kept a steady step, although there was a time even the dim light in her hands seemed too weak to see. More than once Alec was sure he was going to lose her and be lost forever in that maze of passages.

Eventually, however, they started to climb up. The cold relented and the sounds of the servants filled the tunnels, just as the smell of food. Where they in the castle already?

The little girl stopped and took a last turn, pushing the wall. It opened to a simple room where Lord Baal stood waiting. The man had a pointy face, not ugly to stare at, though Alec didn’t particularly like it. It was probably something about his mustache or those dark, cryptic eyes of his that missed nothing. He wasn’t taller than Magnus, which meant he was shorter than Alec, but still the Master of Secrets was able to occupy the entire room if he so wanted to. 

Lord Baal smiled at the little girl. “Thank you, sweetling. You did good. Off you go.”

Nodding, the girl left through the secret door she had used to get in there. Alec narrowed his eyes at the lord. “Do you employ children now?”

“Do you mean to imply I didn’t before?” Lord Baal smirked and grabbed a sack that rested on the table behind him. “You’d be right, of course. I didn’t employ children. But you are also wrong. I don’t do it now either. Employing would entail a vinculum I do not share with them.”

Alec just stared at him. He had hardly interacted with the Master of Secrets, but whenever he did, Lord Baal seemed intended on making him feel particularly stupid, no matter what he said. The best way not to lose that game was not to play it at all. 

Lord Baal sighed when no response came. “I simply told the Lukenian girl that if she brought the pretty knight in green to me, her mother’s new baby would want for nothing. So, you see, not a job, but a trade.” 

Lord Baal threw the sack to Alec. “Get dressed.”

Inside the sack there were translucid silks and fine jewelry, all very delicate. Alec blinked and then rage filled his veins. “Those are whore clothes.”

“Seelie courtesan,” Lord Baal corrected him with a satisfied smile. “The finest I could get from the pleasure house at the city’s center. If anyone sees you entering the prince’s chambers, we ought to have a believable excuse, Sir Alec. Nobody will expect to see an nephilim lordling in those, so they won’t.”

“They won’t see it because I will not wear it,” Alec said through his teeth. 

The lord sighed as one would to a petulant child. “It is just a disguise, my lord. Nothing for you to worry that handsome head of yours over.” He clapped his hand once. “Now, if you please. The prince is waiting.”

Alec gritted his teeth and grabbed the silks, turning around to get rid of his clothes. His cloak was off in seconds and his shirt soon followed when he realized something. He looked at Lord Baal, who was clearly watching. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” the lord answered with a grin on his lips, but sighed when Alec only glared at him, and turned around. 

Once Alec was done changing, he covered himself with the green cloak. The silks were very revealing and they hugged him on his shoulders and hips, but left little to imagination. He had never felt this exposed.

“And the last touch,” Lord Baal said, handing him a piece of jewelry that looked like a small crown. There was silk draping from it and when Alec struggled to put it in place, the fabric covered a good portion of his face, leaving just his mouth exposed. He could still see through it, but the world was now a shade greener.

The Master of Secrets examined Alec from head to toe. “Not bad at all. Unfortunately we don’t have time for makeup, but you are already sufficiently irrecognizable, my lord. Our dear prince will enjoy this very much.” 

“Just take me to him,” Alec grunted through gritted teeth. It was difficult to walk as the shimmering silk moved with him, dancing at each step he took, revealing and hiding different portions of skin. He was completely vulnerable.

They crossed the corridors in a steady pace, which did not help Alec, but at least the disguise seemed to work. Every servant they passed by looked away, as a Seelie courtesan, even in a cloak, was known to be only for their master’s eyes. It was a small mercy.

Lord Baal could probably sensed Alec’s discomfort as he cleared his throat. “Did you have to wait long for our mutual friend to arrive and allow you into the Labyrinth?” he asked cordially. 

Alec rolled his eyes, which proved to be unadvisable as he almost tripped on the silks. “I waited inside the castle, and not for very long.”

A flash of genuine surprise passed through the lord’s face. “Is that so? Marvellous. I’m sure you could find a nice spot at the terraces on the second floor to talk in private.”

The most annoying part of that conversation was that Lord Baal probably thought he was complimenting Alec’s intelligence by assuming it took him only two guesses to get in. Deciding there was no point in correcting him, Alec just hummed nonchalantly and focused on avoiding the longest parts of his trousers, if they could be called that, as he walked.

Finally, they arrived at the back of Magnus’ room, where the servants came in and out. Lord Baal handed Alec the sack with his discarded clothes and instructed him to wait. There would be food and wine for him to entertain himself while the prince was busy.

“Thank you,” Alec said before Baal turned to go.

Those simple words stopped the Master of Secrets and he blinked, looking disconcerted for a second. He composed himself with a cough. “It is my pleasure to serve the Prince of Darkness,” he said sternly. “Even if I don’t always agree with him.”

Alec sighed. “I know you don’t like me and you have a good reason not to. I just… I never meant to hurt him. And I’m glad to know he has loyal people looking into his best interest. I made a mistake and I intend to right it, even if it costs me my life.”

Lord Baal stared blankly at him, his face betraying nothing. Alec sustained his gaze in silence, equally unwavering. 

Eventually, the lord shrugged. “Make sure it doesn’t come to that. It would greatly upset the prince and that would make my job very difficult. Besides, I look forward to spending the rest of my life having harmless fun at your expense once this whole inconvenient war is passed. Nephilim knights are so easy to tease.” Lord Baal bowed his head at Alec. “May Hell never find you.”

“And may you never find Hell,” Alec answered, closing the door. He wasn’t sure what to make of Baal, but for some reason he felt the animosity between them had soothed into something else. 

Alone in the room, Alec stripped off the silks and put on his regular rough clothes, feeling much better in them than the delicate texture. He fed on some of the meat and bread, washing them down with watered wine as he waited. Magnus had some books in his chambers, and it helped to pass the time.

The main door opened with a slam, yanking Alec out of the story he had been reading, but he didn’t mind. Magnus marched in, and that was all that matter.

But he wasn’t alone. Behind him, the Undead Raphael and the She-Wolf walked in with unreadable expressions. Alec didn’t have time to say anything, though, as a mass of orange curls clouded his vision at the same time thin arms closed around his waist.

“Alec!” Princess Clary said, her voice trembling with a whimper.

He wrapped his arms around her without thinking, hugging her close. “Your Tiny Highness,” Alec said with just a hint of teasing and that made the girl snort her tears away.

Clary let go of him and pushed her hair back. “How is everyone? Izzy? Jace? Are they hurt?”

“No, they are well. Jace misses you in every waking moment and Izzy cannot wait until the war is over and she can see you again.” Leaving Clary behind was a decision that was met with protest from Alec’s siblings, but Sebastian had been very convincing as he made his argument not to include Clary in their plans. 

Strangely, Alec couldn’t recall the logic he had once agreed to. Now, the lack of Clary fierceness and quick judgement of character seemed lacking in their war meetings. If the princess was there since the beginning, maybe he would’ve been able to see through their king’s mask and-

No, it made no sense in dwelling in the past. They had to focus on the future.

“What is this?” Magnus had moved to the other side of the room and found the green silks Alec left on his bed. 

“Ask your Master of Secrets,” Alec mumbled, suddenly very glad he was wearing his regular clothes. 

Magnus examined the clothing and understanding shone in his eyes, as well as excitement and… Something else. Something that send a shiver down Alec’s spine. “I might have to grant Lord Baal a bigger castle once everything goes back to normal, as my most sincere thanks for services rendered.”

Lady Maia cleared her throat, drawing everyone’s attention to herself. “We have important matters to discuss, don’t we?”

“We do,” the Undead agreed. “As I said, this has to do with Simon. You need to save him.”

Alec’s heart tightened in his chest. There had been no news of Simon and he had forced himself to push his worries for his friend down at the back of his mind. “Save him from what?”

“Where is he?” Clary asked rushly.

Raphael arched an eyebrow at them, and turned to Magnus. “The Queen has Simon in her possession, heavily guarded. I found him by accident, a couple of weeks ago. She has kept me away from you so I couldn’t tell you where the boy is, but I can guarantee no harm has come to him yet. She intended to keep him until she was certain what to do with him.”

Magnus nodded. “And what is that?”

“She wants to help the Seelie Queen to escape captivity. Simon would be given as a token of good faith and payment fee for the Vampatrian entrance in King Sebastian’s coalition. Queen Camille wanted me to have one of the blood maidens deliver this note to the Seelie Queen tonight and secure the deal as soon as possible.” Raphael handed a letter sealed by the Queen of the Night to Magnus.

As the prince read it, Alec took a step forward. “We have to save Simon. Now.”

“And we will,” Lady Maia agreed. Her hand was already on the sword on her hip. Clary nodded, her entire posture showing nothing but resolve.

“By doing this,” Magnus said carefully and looked at Raphael, “you’ve betrayed your monarch. I have enough proof to cast her down from the Alliance for this.”

Raphael nodded and he didn’t look guilty at the slightest. “My duty is to the Vampatrian people, not Camille. Her actions put us all at risk and I am not the only one who thinks this way. As an Undead, I lack the means to strike her down, but you can do it. Once she is down, the people will look for the Faith for guidance. Get Simon to safety and I will deliver the Alliance the bloody troops when you need them.”

Magnus inhaled calmly, fingers brushing his cat-eye pendant. He looked at Alec, a question in his eyes.

Alec nodded without hesitation.

“It is decided, then,” Magnus proclaimed. “Tonight, we rescue Samuel. And tomorrow, we cast Camille down from her throne of lies.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The answer: Wisdom, Lie and Truth.
> 
> Also, raise your hand if you wanted to be Baal at any point of this chapter.
> 
> As always, a huge thank yo to [QueenCow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenCow/pseuds/QueenCow) <3
> 
> I'm on [Tumblr](http://sweetillusionketz.tumblr.com/) and on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/Ketz_CML/). Kudos and comments are always appreciated! I'll be tracking #adop on twitter, if anyone feels like live-tweeting :)
> 
> Ketz


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heey <3
> 
> No riddles today. Well, unless you consider Sebastian's villainy a riddle, then there's plenty of it.
> 
> Anyway, Simon needs rescuing. Nothing new there ;)
> 
> Warning: Depiction of violence.

Magnus was received at Camille’s chambers just a couple of minutes after his presence was announced. He would’ve prefered to meet her in a neutral room, but by indulging Camille’s invite to visit her at scandalous hours, he was surer to get her attention all to himself. As undesirable as that was.

The queen was waiting for him sitting at the foot of her bed, sipping on a goblet of wine. Her delicate frame was dressed only by a dark red velvet robe that left her shoulders bare. In fact, the garment seemed to only be held in place because she had her arms crossed under her chest.

 _Indecent_ , Magnus thought, even if he had to admit the image was alluring in a way. Camille Belcourt was arguably the most powerful woman in the world, now that the Seelie Queen was a captive. She commanded huge armies and held the fate of the richest kingdom of the Alliance in her hands. Camille was also beautiful, lethally so, and twice as smart. She could smell an opportunity from a mile away and she was ruthless enough to seize it no matter the cost.

And there she was, putting effort into seducing him. Magnus was not blind to the meaning of that.

He didn’t let it fool him either. Camille was a master politician; she smiled at Magnus and gestured for him to pour himself a goblet all the while knowing she had put in motion a plan to destroy everything he stood for. In the morning, she would be gone, rushing to meet the blessed army, but she would not show her hand before time. No, Camille would play the game, keep the strategy of seducing Magnus onto her side until she could drop the act safely.

To think they were engaged for a couple of minutes. To think Magnus had loved her, as friend yes, but even as something else when he was much younger. A part of him still desired her and it shamed him to admit it. Life had gotten in the way and the two of them had grown to be very different from the children they once were.

Sighing, Magnus poured himself a cup and moved it in circular motions, watching the dark liquid dance. “I believe you don’t approve of my plan,” he said quietly.

“I don’t approve of your submission,” Camille said pointedly, hips popping to the side. “Your stunt in clearing Idris of all downworlders might have been seen as a brilliant tactic retrieve and a humanitarian move, but we can talk about it frankly here. You lost that battle before it even began. And losing that battle meant losing the entire war.”

Magnus frowned, staring at her. “There were seven important Vampatrian families living in Idris. The Chens are one of them. Lady Lily’s family, her father and sisters. Isn’t she the most popular choice to succeed you in five years or so?”

The finer details of the succession process of the throne of Vampatria escaped Magnus, but he knew Camille’s reign wouldn’t last forever. She had been raised to the throne when she was only seven and ten, a mere two years before the Mortal War broke, but a Vampatrian monarch ruled only for twenty years. After that, a new election would take place and each of the seven possible candidates - children that were selected by the Crown and the Faith - would compete to find the best and most important sponsors among the voters, winning the most votes in the process.  
Lady Lily was famously the most eligible candidate from Camille’s heirs and was doing well in every sociable event she’d ever attended. Her family had been the sole Vampatrian family to write back to Magnus and thank him for the warning that saved their lives.

“Seven,” Camille corrected him with a hint of annoyance. “Rest assured she is dutifully grateful to you, dear.”

“Her gratitude is appreciated.” Magnus put the cup down. “Ralf Scott was also among the survivors warned. One would think his safety would bring you happiness.”

The queen’s face twisted into something ugly with the mention of her former lover and almost husband. The Lukenian lord had almost cost Camille her crown and talking about him was meant to hurt. “I would’ve been happier to receive his head,” she said, voice empty of emotion.

It was highly disturbing, to realize there was no sweetness implied, no unwavering confidence on her part. Camille had loved the lordling as a girl, but he was much too low ranked for her and, worse, a Lukenian. Before the Alliance was made, such a match would be unthinkable, a disgrace. Their relationship was discovered and condemned and the boy’s life was only spared because Luke had sent him to live in Alicante, in an exile of sorts.

Magnus startled to realize he felt jealous of the man. Camille might be putting a show for Magnus, she might have cooked a marriage between them, a plot to join their kingdoms, but the mere mention of Ralf Scott affected her deeply than Magnus ever would.

Shaking that absurd feeling away, the prince shrugged. “Well, he’s alive and well. Once we negotiate with Sebastian, you can send him back North if you’d like.” He focused on their plan. Magnus needed to draw the queen’s attention to himself, as well as her personal guard. Attacking Camille would be unadvised, considering she was trained in hand to hand combat from an early age and far better than Magnus himself on it.

So Magnus would have to go for an alternative form of distraction; he’d give the guards something to gossip about. Vanity was a crucial sin the Vampatrians were known for and any indiscretion was cause for talk. The Prince of Darkness visiting their queen after hours should keep them busy, especially if they had heard of the almost marriage. Which Magnus was pretty sure they did, judging by the knowing smile on the captain of the guard’s lips when Magnus asked to be announced.

Camille sighed, barely able to keep her annoyance from her voice. “Please tell me you didn’t come to talk politics. I am tired, Magnus. It’s late and I haven’t even started my death prayers.” She arched an eyebrow at him and smirked. “You are welcome to join me, otherwise I bid you goodnight.”

Death prayers were regularly done naked, a dance to honor Death in the same way one came to life. Magnus had assisted Camille with those prayers more than once in their youth and it never felt very religious.

“I’m wounded,” Magnus said dramatically, trying to find a way to stay in the room without having to resort to stripping his clothes off. “I came to make peace and-”

Shouts at the other side of the door interrupted him and Magnus had to restrain himself from smiling in relief. Camille frowned and pushed her robe to cover herself properly, tying the loosened belt in place.

A knock sounded on the door and Captain Alexey de Quincey put his head into the room. “My Lady, I’m sorry to disturb.”

“What is happening out there?” Camille hissed, dismissing the apology with a movement of her hand.

“It’s Princess Clarissa, my lady. She demands to see Simon.” The soldier’s tone wasn’t surprised and there was no reason to be. Clary had been trying to find her friend for weeks, sometimes trying to sneak into the Vamaptrian wing, sometimes by using her privilege to gain an audience with Camille. She had been denied every single time.

The queen rolled her eyes. “Send her away.” She looked over to Magnus and added, “inform the princess, once again, that the boy isn’t here. He’s back at DuMort, for his safety, as I’ve told her hundreds of times.”

The captain looked nervous. “My lady, the princess is armed and not alone. She has a dagger to the Undead Raphael’s neck.”

Camille’s eye shot open. “What?! Kill her.” 

“Please,” Magnus said, stepping forward. “Let me deal with this, my darling. Murdering the Alpha Major’s daughter will ruin the Alliance and Raphael is my friend. I’ll reason with the princess.”

For a second, the queen seemed ready to snap at him, probably with a vicious comment that there was no Alliance anymore, but Camille composed herself before the words left her lips. “If the girl hurts my cleric, Lukos will get itself an enemy much worse than that boy king sitting in Idris’s throne.”

Magnus shook his head. “Clary is just a girl and she is desperate and alone. Give me a few minutes.” He rushed out of the room, knowing Camille would follow. 

At the main corridor, Clary stood with her back to the wall and a dagger held close to Raphael’s neck. They were surrounded by Camille’s personal guards and even the guards of the other rooms were paying attention. When they saw their queen, all guards rushed to show proactivity. 

Hiding a sneer, Magnus approached the princess. “Your Highness, please,” he began in a calming voice. “Release Raphael. Nobody needs to get hurt.”

Clary gritted her teeth and the blade touched Raphael’s neck. The princess was doing a remarkable job there. “I want to see my friend. I do not believe these lies. Simon is here and I will see him now.” 

The Undead groaned, but Clary didn’t relent. As Magnus spoke to her, making argument after argument to calm her down, he counted in his head. One minute passed, and then another. Clary kept her part of the act brilliantly, never letting herself be convinced, and Raphael grunted and added a few colorful lines to the exchange that were not previously combined but that fit perfectly nonetheless.

Finally, the agreed time passed in Magnus’ head. By then, Alec and Maia should have gotten to the room where Simon was being kept by the secret passages, taken out the guards inside, if there were any, and smuggled the boy out through the tunnels. 

Magnus cleared his throat. “My princess, this is madness,” he said, putting emphasis on the word. That was the signal for Clary to step down. “The queen swears on her honor Lord Simon isn’t here, and we all know what her honors are worth. Stop this.”

Clary winced, but then lowered the dagger, releasing Raphael. She let the dagger fall from her hand and sobbed. “I am so sorry. I just… I haven’t heard from any of them.” She might be overdoing it, but when Clary turned to Camille and bowed her head, producing a self-satisfied smirk on the older woman’s lips. “I apologize, your Grace. I shouldn’t have doubted your word. If you say Simon isn’t here in your wing,” Clary said, “ then I am sure he isn’t.”

The laugh rose in Magnus’ throat, but he covered it with a cough.

“Death is but a journey,” the queen said gracefully, though there was an edge to her voice that indicated she was about done with this whole scene. “An Undead would never fear it, so there was no real harm done.”

“Thank you for your clemency,” Magnus said and bowed, grabbing Raphael by the elbow. “My darling, you’re bleeding. I know this is common for you, but this sight is disturbing. Allow me to help.” He dragged him through the guards and gestured for Clary to follow. 

Camille didn’t seem to care, too happy to be left alone. She gestured for the guards to go back to their posts and walked into her chambers without given them a single glance.

They were back to the Edomian wing in minutes. Clary waited until they were safely inside a room before allowing a low roar. “I was so close to punching her!”

“That is something I would love to see,” Magnus said with a sneer. 

Raphael rolled his eyes. “Where are they? They should be here already.”

As if summoned, the hidden door behind the closet trembled. In the next second, Alec stormed into the room, having broken the door open with his shoulder. Simon followed him in and Maia came in last.

“That was the most impressive and scariest shown of strength I’ve ever seen,” Simon said, eyes shining in awe. “You guys missed it. We found the door and I was trying to find where the key went,” he showed it as he spoke, “and then Alec pushed me away and just BAM! No warnings, no distance taken. Just shoulder to the door and then door to the floor. They should make a song of this.”

Alec rolled his eyes. “He hasn’t stopped talking since we found him. Almost makes me want to drag him back there.”

Maia was smiling fondly at Simon, who looked sincerely scared Alec was being serious. “There was only one guard in there with Simon and he’s dead now. They won’t know he’s gone until morning, when they bring him food to break his fast.”

“If they do it,” Simon chimed in. “The last guard said starving me might shut me up. He clearly had no idea who he was dealing with. Hunger makes me even more talkative.”

“Help yourself, then.” Magnus pointed at the fruits on the bow over the table. Clary grabbed a pear and brought to her friend, hugging him tight. The prince smiled at the sight and turned to Alec and Raphael. “I will talk to Luke regarding Camille’s actions tonight. Raphael, I’ll need your testimony. Alexander, I-” Magnus trailed off. 

“I will see you again,” Alec said, taking a step forward and producing a beautiful dagger, its hilt and sheath covered with angelic rune. He pushed the dagger into Magnus’ hands. “You’ll give this back to me once we do. In the meantime, I’ll convince Sebastian to come down and meet the Alliance here. The plan will work.” Alec closed Magnus’ hand over the dagger gently. “We’ll be together once again, your Highness.”

Looking at Alec’s eyes, at all the certainty in them, Magnus almost believed it.

\---

The trip back to Idris was slower than Alec wanted it to be, but there was nothing to be done about it. Clary has insisted to go with him and she made a convincing argument as to why it was better for Alec to return with something to show for himself, considering he wouldn’t be bringing the Seelie Queen as he had promised. Simon had come with them as well, and that was not the product of a good debate.

The two of them made the journey slow, as Alec had to stick to main roads once they reached Alicante. Neither the princess or the lordling were exceptional riders and he was not going to risk an accident. They weren’t very quiet either, so there was no point in staying in the dark and hide from thieves.

Alec sighed. At least Simon’s constant blabbering distracted him from thinking back to the morning at the Spiral Labyrinth. Alec had only seen Magnus for a couple of hours and they weren’t nearly enough to make up for the months apart, but his prince presence was unfailing and it changed everything. Any doubts Alec had were gone the second he heard Magnus’ voice, any fear of the future vanished when he saw his eyes.

It was something more than Magnus’ confident demeanor or the way the things he spoke simply became true. Working with Magnus felt right, even natural.

“You are doing that face again,” Simon said from his horse, effectively knocking Alec out of his thoughts.

Rolling his eyes, Alec decided to indulge him. “What face?”

Simon considered for a second. “It’s your happy face. But not happy as if you’d just won the archery tournament, or happy as if you’d shut Jace up with a witty comment. It’s more like the happy face you used to do.”

“You make no sense,” Alec said, putting an end to that.

Or not. Clary turned to from her horse. “Simon is right. It’s the face you used to do when we were children. The day Lord Robert presented you with your first bow. Or the night of the ball where Izzy dragged you to dance with her and you made her laugh.”

“Oh, I know. It’s the face I do when you two shut your mouths.”

Simon shook his head pointedly. “Not quite, although there is a certain serene quality to both of those. Oh, I know how to settle this! What were you thinking about just now?”

Alec stared at him, not an ounce of his body even remotely inclined to answer, but the princess smirked. “He was thinking about Magnus Bane.”

Feeling his face burn, Alec pressed his horse to a trot, but that only earned him some giggles from Simon. “Yes, it makes sense. That is Alec’s happy face for what he loves.”

Clary’s cooing made Alec seriously consider dashing off and leaving them to fend for themselves if there were thieves ahead. They could already see Idris’ walls, so there were little chances of that, unfortunately.

“Magnus went away a couple of nights ago and spent the entire day away,” the princess said, thinking out loud. “Did he go to meet you, Alec? I heard rumors about you two, but mother didn’t want me repeating the things I’d heard.”

Simon’s eyes shone with curiosity. “What things?”

Alec groaned and looked back at them. “Stop that. Nobody can know about this, especially not Sebastian. I’m Parabatai, I have to… I have to set an example of conduct.”

The last sentence came out as a curse, as if Alec was using a weapon that had no tilt, only the blade. It might be effective, but it hurt to wield it. The pain was probably showing on his face, because the all smiles died. Simon looked down in a mixture of shame and anger, but Clary frowned, eyes burning outrage.

“There is nothing wrong with you and Magnus have. Nothing. If my brother thinks for one second that-”

“That is very kind, your Highness,” Alec interrupted her, a harsh but not ungrateful move. “But for now, I bid you to focus your efforts in convincing the king to go to the meeting at Downworlder City.” He looked over the guards at the top of the walls. “We need to put an end to this war,” Alec said and announced the princess, himself and Simon.

Clary’s name, alongside with Alec’s presence, guaranteed they were quickly taken to the royal palace, which was for the best. Walking around Idris felt like entering a cemetery and it sent a horrible chill down Alec’s spine. He had left a vivid city on the verge of rebuilding itself, still celebrating its retaken. Now, there were just a few shops open and much too many soldiers on the streets.

Alec didn’t miss the way the people piled up in the windows to watch them pass, but nobody said more than murmurs. Some people bowed and Clary offered smiles when they recognized her, but only received a few back.

What had happened while he was gone? 

General Aldertree was at the gate of the palace to receive them, as well as a few ladies to escort the princess away. Word of them must have reached the king almost immediately after they’d arrived, so that was no surprise.

“Your Highness,” Aldertree bowed to Clary, a mechanic motion. “Your mother’s chambers have been arranged for you. I am sure you would like to rest after riding for so many days.”

“The princess would like to see her brother, the king, right away,” Alec said, passing by Aldertree as if he wasn’t there. “And her betrothed as well.” Clary nodded, keeping quiet as they had agreed on. The less she spoke, the more dignified she would present herself.

Alec turned to a servant who had brought fresh water. “Send word to my sister as well. There is much to discuss and little time to waste.”

The general narrowed his eyes at Alec, affronted, but he bit down his discontentment and gestured for the servant to go. “Do as Lord Alec says.”

Jace was the first to arrive at the Clave Chamber, where the matters of state were discussed. Lady Lydia had stayed with them to help Clary fix herself and used the time waiting for the others to fill Alec in on what had happened in his absence. The king had summoned his entire army to the city and they had taken residence at the former Camp Dis, now renamed to the Circle. Alongside the soldiers, though, Sebastian had taken all kinds of mercenaries and pardoned the criminals for any crimes committed against downworlders.

It half explained why the capital seemed so bleak.

Sebastian also seemed to have fallen into an introspective silence, retiring to the training fields most days and letting Isabelle deal with the nobility’s requests. He had seized all Seelie high families that weren’t quick enough to leave the city and had thrown into the dungeons. Every day, the king would have the men fight him to exhaustion. He had killed two men before Jace got word of it and moved the prisoners to the City of Bones.

Alec greeted his Parabatai with a hug, but didn’t keep him away from Clary for any longer than necessary. Jace’s small voice as he whispered her name and the euphoria in his eyes as the girl rushed to throw herself in his arms brightened the entire room.

“I’ve missed you so much,” the knight said, picking her up from the floor. “So, so much.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Clary said, half sobbing, half giggling. “Never leave me behind like this again.”

Jace shook his head. “No, never.”

The door opened again and the king walked in, Isabelle right behind him. Sebastian seemed somewhat thinner, his eyes sunk into his skin. He hadn’t been sleeping well, it was obvious. In contrast to Isabelle, in her elegant black gown, loosen hair dancing behind her.

“Clarissa,” the king said and smiled. It was a toothy thing, more like a grimace than a grin. Whatever charm Sebastian used to have had left him entirely. “I did not expect you to come.” He looked over to Alec and his eyes darkened. “I was promised another red haired royal.”

Stepping away from Jace, Clary stared at her brother unflinching. “Sir Alec told me he was sent to save the Seelie Queen. He contacted me in order to find a way into the Downworlder City’s palace and I was able to help him, but I gave him new orders to follow.”

That was not what the story they were going to tell. Truth be told, Alec hadn’t thought out a decent enough excuse for being back with a princess instead of a queen, but he would never allow Clary to take the blame if she had told him what she planned to say.

Which was probably why the princess had waited until then. “As your heir and princess of Alicante,” Clary continued, staring only at Sebastian, “I’ve charged Sir Alec to rescue Simon and bring us both back home safely. It is clear he has followed his orders to perfection.”

Isabelle smiled and walked up to her brother, crossing her arm with Alec’s. “Of course he has,” she said, taking his hand and squeezing it in a warning. Despite her poise, Isabelle’s lips were tense. “Alec would never let us down.”

The suspicion on Sebastian’s face was clear. He looked from Clary to Alec to Simon, who shrunk under the gaze. “And nobody saw you there?”

“It happened very fast,” the princess said, perhaps too rushedly. “Brother, there is som-”

“No,” Sebastian hissed. “Do not call me brother, Clarissa. I am your king. I am father’s true heir. You are not my equal, you are my subject. You will remember your place.” He stood up straighter, towering over her. Alec saw Jace’s hand move to the tilt of his sword at the same time Isabelle’s grip grew even tighter. “Father might have doted on you, but I was the one that completed his vision. I have claimed back our kingdom and I will lay the power of the angels over the vermins down south. Over your filthy dog of a father and his mistress.”

Clary gasped, appalled. “That is our mother you are talking about!”

The king cocked his chin high. “She stopped being my mother when she ran away with a traitor and became queen of the dogs. You were just a child, so I do not blame you for her disgraceful choices. Be thankful Lord Jace has been infatuated with you since you were innocent, otherwise that excuse of a king would surely had married you off to one of his mutts and gotten a stray in your belly. I wouldn’t have taken you back then.”

“Your Grace,” Alec roared, ignoring Isabelle’s warnings. If he didn’t act, neither Clary nor Jace would be able to hold themselves. If either spoke back, or did anything worse, Sebastian would have their heads. “We did not escape Downworlder City easily. In fact, we didn’t escape at all. The Prince of Darkness and the Alpha Major all but let us go, as a token of good faith. They wish to speak with you.”

Slowly, almost lazily, Sebastian moved his eyes from his sister to Alec. The hatred was replaced by disdain. “And what, exactly, does your crowned whore want to speak with me about? I won. I have Alicante, I have the greater army. They can do what they’d like to the Seelie Queen, I couldn’t care less.” He snorted. “Maybe he wants to beg for mercy, the coward. Would you like to kill him, Lord Alec? I shall charge you with that honor when the time comes.” 

Alec saw red. He was halfway through charging, hand down on his sword, when Isabelle stepped between them. “My king, they are surrendering,” she said. “It is clear now. You’ve said yourself, you’ve won, my love. All they can do is surrender and beg for your mercy.” Isabelle looked at Alec. “Do they wish to speak at Downworlder City?”

“Yes,” Alec hissed between clenched teeth.

“Perfect,” the future queen continued. There was an edge to her voice, but it was barely audible. Alec had sent her a letter in their codified language, explaining the plan and Isabelle was the only person in the room that would be able to make it work. “This puts an end to the war, to our people’s suffering. Any demand you’ll want to make, any terms for their surrender; if you march over Downworlder City, it will be met, my love.” She walked up to Sebastian and then kneeled at his feet, taking his hand in hers and blew a kiss to his palm, though her lips never met his skin. “One last thing to fulfill the promise you’ve made me.”

For a second, Sebastian seemed ready to strike her. Something behind his eyes shifted, however, and he pushed Isabelle to rise. Not a gentle gesture, but not nearly as violent as before. “Come. All of you,” he said and walked out of the room’s balcony.

Alec and Jace exchanged a look and moved first, putting themselves between the king and the rest of their friends. Whatever Sebastian was planning, they would protect them.

But when all of them stepped onto the balcony, the king had his hands behind his back, looking over the horizon with a serene expression on his face. Alec examined him for a second and let his eyes dart to where Sebastian’s gaze was.

From the top of the castle, it was possible to see the entire city of Idris and the better part of the Circle. But none of that was what Sebastian was watching. Far to the east, a huge fire burned, raising a column of black smoke to the air.

Clary’s scream came a second after Alec’s entire body froze. The City of Bones was burning to a crisp.

“The Silent Brothers refused to give me back the downworlder prisoners,” Sebastian explained calmly, not darting his eyes from the fire. “I had to make an example of what happens when I’m disobeyed.” He looked over to them only then, his face a mask of something so vicious, Alec had no words to describe it. “It seems like a lesson everyone would benefit from learning.”

“I will take the army to Downworlder City and I will hear Magnus Bane and Luke Garroway begging for their worthless lives.” Sebastian announced when no response came. “And then I will kill them and eradicate that forsaken city from this planet. I will slay each and every downworlder on my way, from there to the Unseelie Island, and I will burn their lifeless bodies, even if I have to burn my own people in order to do it. I’ll give my enemies the same mercy that was given to my father.”

The king turned around and left the room, leaving behind stunned faces and a dreadful silence.

Jace scoffed, a hollow thing, and looked at Alec through tears in his eyes. “We hated our parents for so long because they rallied behind Valentine once, and then we went and did something so much worse.”

“It is not over,” Clary said, voice small but steady. She hadn’t taken her eyes off the pyre of fire that once was the oldest center of knowledge of Alicante. “Sebastian may be king, but he is not blessed by the Angel.” She looked at each of them, the fierceness in her eyes leaving no place for fear. She smiled when Isabelle nodded at her. “He shall be cast down.” 

\---

“Let me out of here!” Camille screeched from inside of her room, fists bagging on the door.

Magnus swallowed hard, forcing himself not to look as Raphael slipped the key into his robes. He had gone to Luke and told him all about Camille’s plans to betraying them, as well as what they’d done to stop it. The Alpha Major had not been happy with the fact Magnus had allowed Clary to leave, but there was nothing to be done in that regard.

Luke had then focused his efforts in undermining the Queen of the Night’s forces in the palace. With Raphael heading the process, one by one Camille’s guards and servants were given a choice; the Crown or the Faith. They could either stand by their queen or support her destitution.

Not a single one chose Camille. Magnus was saddened to realize his childhood friend had crippled her own power through the years. It was not the first time the Faith of Death turned against a monarch, but most of those times had ended in a bloody civil war. There were no oppositors now.

The only resistance they found came from the Seven that would succeed Camille one day, and even they only hindered Raphael’s movement for as long as it took for him to promise the next ruler of Vampatria would be chosen from amongst them.

Lady Maria had been the first to offer her help after that, rallying the others to the the same. After some time of consideration, Raphael had agreed to let them talk to the other Vampatrians, as it was their duty to command. Only Lady Lily and another candidate had remained impartial, deciding not to get involved with the plot and wait for its conclusion.

“It is done,” the Undead said, his voice calm and controlled. He looked over the pale guards, all four of them men of the Faith. “Do not let her out under any circumstances.”

The banging of the door continued and Camille had changed her orders to pleas. It broke Magnus’ heart. “My friend,” he looked at Raphael and he knew there was begging in his face. “Can I talk to her? Please?”

Concern colored Raphael’s features, but his voice was surprisingly kind when he spoke. “It will only bring you pain.”

“It might bring me closure,” Magnus said, sustaining his gaze. “Please.”

Raphael stared at him quietly, until he sighed in disapproval but gestured for the guards to give them privacy. Magnus waited until he was left alone and paused a hand on the wooden door, swallowing hard. “Camille? It’s me, Magnus.”

The banging stopped at once. “Magnus,” Camille hissed from the other side of the door. “What is the meaning of this? Where are my guards?”

“Outside. You’ve been arrested.” Magnus decided that he had to be as straightforward as he could.

“What? That is preposterous.” Camille disdainful laugh was almost convincing. “I am the queen.”

Magnus sighed, leaning his forehead at the door. He had all the power in that conversation and still, he felt weak. “And you’ve crossed the line. You’ve plotted to betray the Alliance and join forces with King Sebastian. Please don’t deny it. Raphael came to me instead of the Seelie Queen as you’ve instructed him. I know everything.”

The silence extended for a mere second. “So you believe the word of an Undead? One that has always wanted to see me casted away? Magnus, this is me. I’m your friend. Remember when we were children? The balls we’ve sneaked into, the bottles of wine we’ve stolen? I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“This is not the first time you try to betray the Alliance,” Magnus said, resolute. He had to stay strong, he couldn’t cave. If she so much as imagined that there was doubt, Camille would hammer on that crack until the entire wall was done. “You say you wouldn’t hurt me, but you have. You’ve plotted with my father against me. Against everyone.”

“No, never against you, dear. You and I, we’re destined to be together, to rule together.” Camille’s voice had just a hint of desperation showing through. “Don’t you see? They are afraid of us, and so they try to break us apart. Make you turn against me. I am the only one you can trust, Magnus. All Raphael has is his word, so now I’ll give you mine. Choose who you believe in.”

Breathing in deeply, Magnus took a step back. “This is not an easy decision,” he said in a small voice, almost all to himself. “But I choose Raphael.”

A loud bang sounded as the door trembled. “Fool! You just dug your own grave,” Camille roared.

Magnus gritted his teeth, realizing his mourning had turned to anger. “It is over, Camille. Simon is no longer under your hold, you have nothing left to gamble with. Raphael has not passed along your orders to the bloody maidens, the Seelie Queen is still in captivity. Your scheme has failed.”

“That one has,” Camille agreed with a condescending tone. “Do you really think I would put all my bets in one unsubordinated little Undead? I have no illusions about where my people’s loyalty lay. I don’t deal with trust, dear. I deal with favors. And there are many who owe me.”

“Nobody took your side,” Magnus said, losing his patience. “Every single person from your entourage was eager to betray you and-” He stopped mid sentence, heart thumping against his chest.

It was true that all of the Vampatrians had chosen Raphael’s side, but some had done it for fear, some for duty and some for gain. Not all of them had a good reasons and there were a few that would lose more than win if Camille was struck down.

Lady Maria, for example. She had been too eager to help, for someone whose very presence among the Seven was solely due to Camille’s patronage. Someone whose family had been raised by Camille’s command and whose only chance to be elected queen depended on Camille’s sponsoring of her once the crown was up for voting.

And they had set her loose in the castle, free to do what Raphael had refused to.

Magnus turned away and rushed to his friend, grabbing Raphael by the elbow. “The Seelie Queen’s chambers. We have to make sure she’s still there. Now!”

As the guards ran through the castle, Magnus and Raphael met with Luke at the common area. There were shouts all around the castle and the She Wolf approached in a rush, gasping for air. 

“I was just in the dungeons, sir,” she reported to Luke. “Sir Meliorn is gone. All the guards are dead.”

Luke and Magnus exchanged a serious glance and moved to the Seelie wing at once. The place was chaos, with guards searching each room, flipping everything around. They had barely crossed through one of the rooms when they heard a loud shout and the sound of a body falling.

“She’s here!” The other guard said at the same time Lady Maria dashed out of the room with a bloody dagger in her hand, ready to lash at Raphael.

Maia intercepted her before the Vampatrian even got near him, snatching the dagger away from her by twisting her hand and pulling the girl to the floor, face first.

“Just kill me,” Lady Maria hissed.

The She-Wolf smirked. “Wrong culture.”

Concluding that was done, Magnus kept going. The queen’s chambers were the very last ones at the corridor, just like in every wing. He passed through another open door to get there. Magnus got a glimpse of the Seelie Faeries, the ladies in waiting who had also been imprisoned and forbidden to communicate with the queen.

He pushed the main chamber’s doors open without warning, walking into the room with his hand on Alec’s dagger at his waist.

There was no need to use it, though. The queen was sitting by the window, watching the night sky. She was wearing a clean dress, beautiful in its simplicity. To protect from the chilly wind, there was a heavy cloak over her shoulders that covered her head, but allowed her vibrant red hair fall down in a cascade of curls.

Magnus relaxed, his shoulders curving down in relief. “I’m sorry to disturb you, your Majesty. And for barging in without announcement.”

The Seelie Queen moved her hand in a dismissal, face still turned to the window. She ran her fingers through her hair, setting it in place when a gush of wind made it dance for a second. There were reports that the queen had been refusing to speak to anyone for days, a common practice when a Seelie was captured. In order not to lie, they would just not answer.

Bowing respectfully, Magnus stepped out of the room to close the doors. Luke was there, staring at the Fairies who watched them in silence. “Remind me, my prince. How many ladies in waiting usually accompany the queen?” he asked.

Shrugging, Magnus stared at him. “Four. One for water, one for earth, one for fire and one for air. Each one represents an element of nature.”

The Alpha Major nodded. “I thought so,” he said and barged into the room without any hesitation. Magnus had time to look at the ladies and count three before looking back to Luke grabbing the queen by the shoulder and turning her to face him.

Lady Kaelie smiled, her face almost unrecognizable without the brown and blue hair she usually sported. “Oh, I see now why Queen Jocelyn prefered you over a king. Such a firm grip. Not a disagreeable face either, even with the years leaving their mark on it.” She giggled suggestively.

Luke snarled at her, releasing her shoulder at once. “Where is the queen?” he snapped.

“Which queen?” Lady Kaelie cocked her head to the side, batting her eyelashes innocently. “There are so many. I believe the safest answer would be ‘locked in her chambers’. It seems to be the standard procedure around here.”

Magnus narrowed his eyes at her. “Where is the Seelie Queen?”

“Obviously not locked in her chambers.” Lady Kaelie’s smile grew wider as she spoke and she giggled. “Or rather, not anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, but I love Lady Kaelie a lot. I really do.  
> The plan is a go! Hopefully, nothing bad will happen.
> 
> :)
> 
> Big, big thank you to the beta [QueenCow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenCow/pseuds/QueenCow) who is so extra.
> 
> I'm on [Tumblr](http://sweetillusionketz.tumblr.com/) and on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/Ketz_CML/). Kudos and comments are always appreciated! I'll be tracking #adop on twitter, if anyone feels like live-tweeting :)
> 
> Ketz


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I'm so, so sorry.
> 
> Second; the war is upon us.
> 
> WARNINGS: Death of minor characters, violence, blood.

It took six days and hundreds of lives for them to start the march South. The crown had emitted a calling, summoning every able-bodied man and woman over the age of ten and six to fight. They were given three days to present themselves at Idris, armed and ready to defend their homeland. 

According to Sebastian’s advisers, a contingent of over eighteen thousand foot soldiers was to be expected. However, by the end of the third day only half of those numbers showed up. Most of the nephilim were contempt in staying with their families and taking care of their lands now that the kingdom was no longer occupied by the Alliance. For them, the war was over. 

Not for Sebastian, however. In order to encourage more soldiers to come, as he put it, the king sent his mercenaries to the villages next to Idris, from where they dragged every single person over the age of fourteen after destroying crops, commerces and houses with everyone not fit to serve inside, so the soldiers wouldn’t be missed. 

After that, another four thousand people turned up. As they marched, Alec forced himself to ride along the foot troops, despite the fact that, as Parabatai, his responsibility were the eight hundred shadowhunters that have been rescued from The Bleeding or that seized their lives as hedge knights and pledged their loyalty to the crown.

Those men and women were soldiers trained in the nephilim art of war, honorable knights who had mastered their weapons of choice. They were disciplined, fierce, capable. They knew how to follow orders, how to fight as a squad. They had horses, armor, weapons. 

There was none of that among the foot soldiers. Alec had to be careful as he rode among them, as many were no more than children. Barely older than what he’d been when he first used a real blade in training. Too thin, too fat, too young, too old. They were scared, of the war to come, but mostly of their king and what he would do to them if they refused to fight.

And they had good enough reason to be. During one of the nights of the march, a group of twenty three men tried running away through the forests that surrounded them. When word had gotten to Sebastian, he had laughed and released his hounds to hunt the men down. 

Sebastian had called it a distraction, a game to put them in the mood for the fighting. Both Alec and Jace were forced to take part, along Aldertree and others from Sebastian’s inner circle. The Parabatai had exchanged a single glance and done as told, but every man they found was allowed to go. Together, Alec and Jace were able to save five terrified peasants.

They came back to a pile of eighteen bodies and a smiling king.

Somehow, Alec pondered as the soldiers parted away for him to pass, what Jace and him did was passed along. At the start of the march they had looked away. Many murmured insults and Alec had heard ‘downworlder lover’ and ‘abomination’, though the voices silenced when he looked for them.

Now, just a couple of days away from Downworlder City, they had started to look at him differently. For every pair of disgusted eyes, three others carried admiration. There were no murmurs anymore, no mean comments, but hope. Reverence.

It was such a crushing feeling. The people looked up to him, they put their hope on him. But Alec couldn’t save them, not from the monster he himself had unleashed upon them. 

“Alec!” Jace’s voice came from the front of the column. “There you are!” He came in a gallop, making his horse stand beside Alec’s. “Come on, we need you at the front. There’s… There’s some-”

Jace stopped mid-sentence and looked around. Some of the closest foot soldiers had stopped marching and were blantly staring at them. A lot of the others were muttering, expressions of awe on their faces. It was impossible to distinct exactly what they were saying, but Alec could distinguish a few words. Their names, for one. Parabatai. Saviors.

Swallowing hard, Jace grabbed the reins tighter. Alec could see the weight of those gazes on him too, but suddenly Jace smiled, the image of the confident lord. “May the Angel bless you all,” he declared loudly, nodding to the people. 

Alec took the hint and nodded to the soldiers as well. He was surprised to receive some nods back and even some smiles. Most of the foot soldiers carried spears and as Jace urged them to keep on marching, they began banging the weapons on the ground. The rhythm was intoxicating, like a never ending thump that rang away every doubt in Alec’s head.

“Parabatai,” the voices said. One by one, adding to the mass. “Parabatai, Parabatai, Parabatai!”

“May the Angel bless you both!”

“Parabatai! Parabatai! Parabatai!”

“Sir Jace, Death in Two!”

“Sir Alec, the Righteous Arrow!”

“Come on,” Jace said, leaning over to Alec. The somberness of his expression was gone, but for his eyes. Still, the shadow of a smile still lingered on Jace’s lips and Alec knew from experience it was genuine. “We really have to go. The scouts found the Seelie Queen.”

Frowning, Alec nodded and they hurried forward in the column. In doing so, they passed by the archers and then the shadowhunters. By then, the column had stopped marching, but each and everyone of the shadowhunters stood up and saluted as Alec and Jace passed by them.

Those were their men and women. Brave, honorable, disciplined. The soldiers of Angel Raziel. They were as loyal to the Parabatai as devoted to the Angel.

Alec didn’t to see the portals that lead to Pandemonium, the deserted Edomian war camp they were going to spend the night in, to know he had arrived at the front of the column. All he had to do was to look at the forces there. Sebastian’s loyal men, mercenaries and pardoned criminals, spread through the ruins of the camp. 

None of them even batted an eyelash as the Parabatai rode to the royal tent. Alec hated to think Isabelle and Clary were protected by them, but the king had insisted in bringing the girls with them. He wanted his sister and betrothed to be there as he raided the downworld and conquered the entire continent.

As disturbing as it was, bringing them was also the most intelligent thing Sebastian had done. Whatever force they had left behind was merely protocol, more of a guard than an army. The entirety of the blessed army was coming South, but not to sign a peace treaty. To wage war. To kill.

Sebastian’s men seemed eager to do so. 

“There you are,” Aldertree called, walking out of the royal tent. The general might be a slivering snake, but he too didn’t seem at ease among the king’s men. He eyed them with suspicion and a touch of contempt. “Come on. The king wants his Parabatai.”

Inside the tent, the world seemed just as tense. Alec saw his sister, sitting alongside Clary at the back. They didn’t have their ladies with them, so they kept each other company at all times. Sebastian was there too, walking to one side to the other impatiently. Hodge watched him through narrowed eyes.

In the center of the tent, guarded by Meliorn, the Knight of Leafs, was the Seelie Queen. Her hair was a mess of red curls and her clothes were ragged and dirty, and still she looked every bit as regal as the songs about her. She sat quietly, back straight and hands resting on her lap.

Until she saw Alec and smirked. “There he is. My savior.” The queen stood up and walked up to Alec, extending both hands to him. “I wouldn’t have been able to escape without you, Sir Alec.”

Alec grabbed her hands, trying to make sense of what was happening, and bowed his head. “Your Majesty, I… I am not sure of what to say.”

Why was she here? What was happening?

“It seems,” Sebastian hissed, stopping with his arms crossed, “that in the confusion you’ve created when you went to fetch the princess, my Lord Alec, you gave the Seelie Queen the chance she needed to escape.”

“Cause and consequence,” the queen said in a witty tone, but her grip grew firmer on Alec’s hands. A warning. 

Swallowing hard, Alec licked his lips. “Right. The guards came after me, probably leaving the Knight of Leafs unsupervised in the dungeons.”

Meliorn nodded gracefully. “Once there was nobody there, it was easy to find my way out and back to my queen. Brave Lady Kaelie took her place, but there is little chance they haven’t found out the switch by now.”

“But my faeries need not fear,” the Seelie Queen said, turning back to Sebastian. “What matters is that I am back at your side, my dear king, and I have sent word to my army to march with yours. Just as planned.”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at her and didn’t respond to the smile she was offering him. It was as if he was seeing a ghost and not a woman in front of him. “Nothing’s changed.”

It wasn’t true, despite of what the queen’s slight cock of head implied. Things had changed. Sebastian had burned alive dozens of Seelies in the crypts of the City of Bones. Wasn’t the Seelie Queen informed of that? How could she still stand by him after that?

“Your Majesty,” Clary said, standing up, “I am sure a bath and a warm meal would be appreciated, both for you and for Sir Meliorn. Allow Lady Isabelle and I to aid you.”

The restraint and poise in the princess’ voice was so unnatural to her, Alec almost winced. Clary Fray was a free woman whose inobservance of the costumes was both her greatest strength and her biggest flaw. To watch her play the role of a tamed lady was grounding experience; one that Alec wasn’t sure he appreciated.

The Seelie Queen watched her with a serene expression. “I thank you, Princess. I believe congratulations are in order as well. For your belated betrothal, I mean.” She looked at Jace, whose dark expression didn’t change when referred to. “A fine young man. You must be very thankful to the king for speeding up the matter.”

“We are most happy,” Clary said through gritted teeth. Her rashness could only be suppressed for so long.

“To the castle, then?” Isabelle asked, laying a hand on the princess arm. “The Edomians left such a beautiful bathing room. By now, it should be filled and warm.”

Nodding, the queen let herself be escorted out of the tent in the company of Clary and Isabelle. Alec didn’t miss the way Hodge looked at the woman, though. The loathing in his eyes was a dangerous storm, something that was barely contained. It scared Alec to see such a look on him. Hodge had a quietude to him that served as an anchor every time Sebastian’s fits of anger attacked. To see him taken by hatred was disturbing.

Still, Hodge didn’t say anything, not even when Meliorn bowed his head courtly to Sebastian and followed his queen outside the tent.

The king smiled, amusement in his eyes. “She doesn’t know. She thinks our cooperation still stands,” Sebastian pondered, voice growing high almost to hysteria. He giggled to himself. “That is perfect. We will allow the Seelies to aid us destroy the Alliance’s army, and then we’ll deal with her and hers.”

“How can she not know?” Jace whispered, more to himself than to others, but the king heard him. As Sebastian stared, Jace swallowed hard and spoke louder. “Your Grace, she has to know what happened at the City of Bones. Her army is all around us and Alicante knows.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you saying my people betrayed me? That they told our enemies of our tactics?”

“No,” Jace said at once. “I say rumors are easily listened to.” He pressed his lips together, as if forcing himself not to say anything else.

Their Parabatai vow demanded that they counsel the king. Just like Jace, Alec didn’t believe the Seelie Queen would be completely unaware of what Sebastian had done. There was no reason for her to stand by them. It had to be a trick of some sort. Their first instinct was to warn the king, ask him to pay close attention to her.

However, both Alec and Jace were planning something against the king. Allowing Sebastian to think that he had another nineteen thousand soldiers to fight alongside him could be beneficial to their plan. But such treachery… It was eating Jace inside not to point that out.

“Even if she knows,” Sebastian said dismissively. “She can see this war already has a clear winner, she always has. That is why she chose to take me in when I was a boy. The Seelies don’t have a choice, if they want to survive me. Too bad they won’t.” He giggled in delight. “Oh, but I shall be merciful. I won’t kill her. She can serve as Isabelle’s lady in waiting.”

At that, Hodge walked away from the tent. Alec wanted to do the same, if not for avoiding Sebastian’s presence, but to talk to Hodge alone. He couldn’t, though, for Sebastian turned to the map of Downworlder City open on the main table. 

“Lord Alec,” the king said, “come. I need my strategist to lay out exactly how we are going to massacre the Alliance.”

Inhaling deeply, Alec took a step forward and looked at the map where Magnus would be waiting to put an end to this nightmare.

\---

The meeting between the two armies happened on a sunny afternoon, just outside the walls of Downworlder City. Columns and columns of soldiers stood still, facing each other at the plains as their leaders stood mounted at the front, neither side making a motion to ride to the halfway point. 

“Shouldn’t we go?” Magnus asked to Luke, who stood quietly on his horse with dark expression on his face.

The Alpha Major was dressed for war in furs and leather. He wore a full plate underneath it and warpaint on his face, which made him seem even more ferocious than usual. Luke’s war horse was a monstrosity of an animal and it too had been painted with lunar symbols of a feral warrior. On the horses feet, a pack of six wolves laid on the floor, chewing on bones.

It made Magnus’ plate of armor seem either too weak or too delicate. Still, the Prince of Hell sported the entire war attire typical of Edomian royalty, as advised by both Lord Baal and Lord Ammon. It was the first time in Magnus’ memory that those two agreed on something, so the prince had sighed and squirmed into the velvet cloak adorned with Demonic runes. He had even put on his father’s war crown, an ugly mess of horns and iron.

The war could end that very afternoon, if everything went according to the plan and imagery was important. Magnus knew that better than anyone. The weeks leading to that encounter had been too tense, too slow in passing. It had hit Magnus just the night before that the Downworld’s future was in his hands. 

Their hands. Luke was there with him, ready to fight in a single combat if needed. Raphael was there too, by Queen Lily’s side. The election that had made her queen had happened just a few days before, and her reign depended on what happened next. She had been dressed as The Queen of the Night, her triangular eyes painted and adorned, her black hair braided and shining, but the clothes alone wouldn’t make her a ruler.

Just like the gold crown on Sebastian’s head didn’t make him a king. He sat there atop his horse, a lazy smirk on his lips. Alec and Jace flanked him, each of them in full armor, a cape draped on their shoulder and long swords just within reach. Jace’s saddle had a place for his famous twin swords, just as Alec’s carried his bow and three sets of quivers. Unlike their king, the Parabatai stood with neutral expressions, not a shade of hesitance on their faces, as if the twenty six thousand soldiers in front of them were nothing.

Magnus mused that if he didn’t knew Alec and Jace were on his side, the sight of the Parabatai would be intimidating indeed. 

Princess Clarissa and Lady Isabelle were there too, both dressed all in black. Their gowns were very much like armors too, with adamante bodies to it. Besides them was the Seelie Queen with Sir Meliorn and General Gwyn ap Nudd. Just seeing her filled Magnus’ vein with rage. Their search parties hadn’t been able to locate her, but there she stood, just outside reach.

“Movement,” Luke said out of sudden and Magnus looked at the blessed army as it parted away for a rider to come through. 

General Aldertree came out, making his horse walk in a slow pace. His appearance made no sense until he turned the animal to walking in front of the blessed army and Magnus saw a rope coming from the saddle to the tied hands of the prisoner forced to keep up.

Ragnor.

“Don’t,” Luke warned in a low voice. If it wasn’t for that, Magnus wouldn’t have realized he had propelled his horse to move. “He wants to provoke us. Sebastian think he’s won already. This is a game.”

Magnus shook his head. “No. This is Ragnor’s life.”

As if the words had sealed Ragnor’s fate, Magnus’ next protest was strangled as he watched Sebastian turn to Alec and reach out, snatching his bow and three arrows. Alec seemed paralyzed, his eyes growing wide, but otherway motionless.

Sebastian nocked the first arrow and shot, just when Ragnor was stumbling next. All Magnus could hear was his heartbeat racing, an ominous bumping. 

Five heartbeats later, another arrow flew. The Master of Arms managed to lower his head as to avoid the hit, and the arrow passed just over him, landing dangerously close to Princess Clary. Magnus gasped, but the sound was covered by Luke’s low growl.

Another five heartbeats and Magnus’ heart stopped. Sebastian gave the last arrow and the bow back to Alec, and ordered something. Slowly, Alec took them and prepared the shot, his face an unreadable mask. 

Alec aimed. 

No. No, no, no. No!

The arrow was loosened and the sound of its flight could be heard by both armies, just as the reaping of the pointy end as it found its target.

Magnus had stopped breathing, but when the rope that tied up Ragnor fell dumb on the ground, the gush of air that filler his lungs almost made him pass out. Ragnor stopped stumbling and looked back at Alec, who nodded. He was free.

The king said something to Ragnor and gestured vaguely at the Alliance’s direction. Ragnor nodded and turned to them, walking to them calmly. Way too calmly for someone who was crossing the shooting are of both armies.

It made Magnus snort as he fought back the tears. Of course Ragnor wouldn’t run, wouldn’t bismarck his reputation like that. Proud to end.

“His Grace,” Ragnor said after he stopped in front of Magnus and cleared his throat, “King Sebastian, Rightful Lord of Alicante, Blessed by Angel Raziel, Protector of his Royal Petulance,” he stopped and smirked, “I might have gotten one of those wrong. Anyway, the crowned brat sends me as a token of good faith to open the negotiations. He keeps pronouncing that wrong, however. He insists it’s called ‘surrender’, but since he is clearly mad I thought best to allow him this minor error.”

Magnus chuckled and gesture for Ragnor to be taken away to a safe place. “Thank you, my friend.”

Ragnor dismissed him with a bow. “Just tell me we won’t actually lose to him. That would ruin my whole day.”

“We won’t,” Magnus assured him, feeling calmer. He watched Ragnor being assisted back to Downworlder City and then turned to Luke and the others, a new found confidence rising within him. “Time for a negotiation.”

They marched, Magnus with Lord Baal and Lord Ammon, Luke with Sir Alaric and Lady Maia, Lily with Raphael and the blood maidens. Almost immediately, Sebastian approached too, the Parabatai at his side, and the Seelie Queen followed suit.

The five monarchs meet at the center of the field and for the first time since Magnus watched Alec go with Clary and Simon, the Prince of Hell felt comfortable. Watching Alec there, at Sebastian’s right side, looking every bit as the warrior as he was, made Magnus realize every one of them had a part to play. And Magnus’ part was the diplomat.

“Your Grace,” Magnus said, looking at Sebastian. He deliberately ignored the Seelie Queen as she made no indications to being more than a bystander there. “We are here to negotiate a cease fire. Alicante is yours, along with all its riches and glories. The Downworld is ours. We all lay our weapons now and nobody else has to get hurt.”

Sebastian cocked his head to the side, not saying anything. His silence had an unnerving quality to it, one that had Jace pushing his lips together in anticipation. It wasn’t much different from the reactions Luke and his men were having. Hot headed Lukenians did not appreciate power games.

Good thing Magnus was made of other stuff. Colder, more malleable stuff. He could bend and not break. “And who knows? In the future, once both of us have healed from this war, we can start a commercial treaty. Work for a better future together, for our nations and the futur-”

“A commercial treaty?” Sebastian interrupted him with a sneer. He seemed truly amused. “And who am I going to treat with? Once I’m done with you, there will be nobody left. Not a single person, if you can be considered people.” 

Magnus arched an eyebrow at him. “If you burn everything, you will end up being king of the ashes. The Alliance has beaten Alicante before, we can do it again. But I don’t think you need that particularly history lesson.”

Hatred flared in Sebastian’s green eyes, turning them black even under the bright sun. “You know I don’t. Another thing that you know, Prince Magnus, is that you have no chance of winning this battle. Lord Alec,” he didn’t even glanced his way. “How many men does the Alliance have? A rough estimation will do.”

Alec blinked and looked over Magnus, at the soldiers waiting. His eyes moved, counting happening in his head. “Around twenty-five, your Grace. I might be wrong by a thousand up or down.”

Nodding, Sebastian pouted. “I guess the Alliance is short by fifty thousands or so, and that is to even match our manpower. I will allow that amount of your people to survive my vengeance, and no more. This is more generous than what you’ve done to my peopl-”

“What your father did to your people,” Luke said on the same tone one would use to school a child. It was clear the time for negotiations was over. “King Valentine and his lust for power is to blame for the nephilim suffering. His greed and cowardice condemned an entire nation to a decade of servitude in order to make up for the loss of downworlder lives. Your uprising,” Luke stopped, looking not at Sebastian, but at Jace and Alec, “put an end to that. Your land and people are free now. Go home and make sure it was worth the cost.”

The Parabatai stared back at him and then exchanged a look. Alec’s eyes darted from Jace to Magnus and something in his expression warned the prince there was something wrong. There would be no solution today.

Sebastian huffed, clearly affronted. “My uprising. I am the king. It was my idea. I was the one who rescued them.” He pointed at Alec and Jace and then at Magnus and Luke. “You can’t have them back. You can’t have your precious warrior, your perfect son. And you can’t have your lover, you can’t corrompe him anymore. They are loyal to me. They belong to me. I am-”

“King, yes,” Luke interrupted, patience wearing thin. “If you won’t stop, if you insist on fighting, then be the king and fight for them. There is no need for our armies to clash, we can put an end to this war right now. A single combat between you and I. You have the chance to conquer the Alliance without losing a single nephilim life. Be the King and take it.”

A silence hovered over them as Sebastian considered the offer. For a panicked second, it occurred to Magnus that he might take it just to send Alec or Jace in his place. If he did that, there would be no coming back, no excuse to stop it. They would have to fight or give up the Downworld to a lunatic.

“During my father’s day,” Sebastian said in calm, controlled voice, “it was said that every Shadowhunter was worth three Downworlders. Back then, a fight between Shadowhunter, to decide the fate of the continent made sense. However, Luke Garroway, you’ve forsaken your origins. You turned your back to your kingdom, to your king, and you are no longer a Shadowhunter, not even a nephilim. I shall not submit myself to the humiliation of downing myself to your level. There will be no fighting today, only a massacrer tomorrow.”

Luke growled in a low voice. “You disgrace yourself. By refusing the challenge you condemn your own people to die for a cause that is only yours. A selfish, petty revenge that will lead to nothing but destruction. You are no king, just a spoiled child.”

Sebastian gritted his teeth at the insult and turned his horse around, as if moving to go back to his army. Alec and Jace moved too, but once both of them had given their backs to them, Sebastian looked at Luke with a sick smile on his lips. 

“Where are my manners?” he mused, snickering to himself. “I was asked to kill downworlder today, after all.”

Magnus blinked, not fully comprehending what he meant by that. He didn’t have time to work it out, however. Sebastian moved, too fast for anyone to stop him. He grabbed a dagger on his saddle and threw it at Luke’s heart.

The thump of Alaric’s body hitting the ground after the knight had jumped in front of Luke was muffled by Lily’s scream. The Alpha Major immediately dismounted, rushing to help him, though everyone knew Alaric was beyond the point of help.

Cocking his head to the side, Sebastian looked slightly disappointed. “I’ll come back for that dagger. Sir Jace will have the honor to put it into your heart, Alpha Major. Just as Sir Alec will have the honor to put an arrow between the prince’s eyes.” He smiled in a predatory way. “Come morning, I will burn this city to the ground with heavenly fire. I will cleanse the world from your filth. And I’ll start by you.”

Magnus watched Sebastian go, taking Alec and Jace with him. The time for negotiations was over. Now, there was only one path left: war.

\---

For all the battles he’d been in the last months, Alec had never felt this scared. In fact, it might be the first time he felt scared at all.

His fear was not for himself, though; Alec had gave up on being afraid for himself when he was sent to live in Edom. Alec feared for his men and women, those under his command that were deliberately putting their lives in his hands. He feared for his family, for Isabelle who was there with them without a proper guard, and for his parents and brother back at Idris that awaited the result of the war.

Alec feared for Jace, who hadn’t said a word since they had woken up. He feared for Alicante and the destruction of what that day could bring. Alec feared losing the battle, watching his own people die by the orders of a madman, and he feared winning it even more. 

Mostly, though, Alec feared for Magnus. It was an irrational feeling, considering that between the two of them Magnus was the one who had survived a war while Alec stayed back in a castle. Still, this battle felt different. Magnus was the commander of the Edomian part of the Alliance’s army, a target to be taken down. Especially after Sebastian had ordered Alec to kill him personally.

That would not happen. Alec’s loyalty was no longer Sebastian’s, but Magnus’. He had vowed to a sovereign and there was only one King he recognized now.

“What are we going to do?” Jace asked quietly, startling Alec. They were standing at the same spot they had been on the day before, only Sebastian was nowhere to be seen. He wouldn’t be at the front, risking his own life. He had sent the Parabatai for that. “We are leading the attack. We will be the first to-”

“We fight,” Alec said, not surprised by the lack of emotion in his voice. “We protect our Shadowhunters. Sebastian put us in front to kill us. Us and every soldier who is loyal to us. We are the only thing standing between that army and the smallfolk forced to be here behind us. Today, we fight to protect them.” Alec gritted his teeth. “Magnus won’t let Sebastian win. We just have to survive this battle. He’ll save us.”

Jace stared at him in silence. “And who saves Magnus?”

Alec looked back at him, sustaining Jace’s gaze. “Magnus saves himself.”

The Seelie horn of war sounded, followed by the Shadowhunters’ war cry. Alec and Jace both grabbed their longswords and crossed the blades in the air, the sign for the attack. Just a few feet from there, General Gwyn ap Nudd stood with his own elite force of Seelie knights. 

The vanguard was to be a double attack, with Shadowhunters and Seelie knights striking at once and hard. It was not the strategy Alec had suggested, but it was the one he had to follow. Sebastian wouldn’t listen to anything else.

Alec nodded at the Seelie general, who nodded back. Jace and him lowered their swords and hovered for the attack to begin. Next thing Alec knew, they were galloping towards the wall of downworlders in front of them. 

And then it was Hell.

Fighting in a war was different than anything Alec had ever faced. There was no time to think, no window for error. Everywhere Alec looked, there was someone coming at him. Lukenians, Edomians, Vampatrians. At some point, they all became one thing. Alec slashed and turned and defended. His mind screamed for him to move, to find a place to take cover and start shooting arrows. Instead, Alec kept cutting his way into the downworlder army. 

But something caught Alec’s attention in the middle of the fighting. In fact, not something but the lack of it. Wherever Alec looked, he saw Shadowhunters fighting the Alliance’s soldiers. What he didn’t see were Seelies. 

Making his horse turn around, Alec looked back. The Seelie knights were fighting, yes, but not the Alliance. They had waited for the Shadowhunters to pass and were descending on the nephilim foot soldiers. It was a slaughter. 

“Jace!” Alec shouted, voice growing strangled. “We have to go back!”

A couple of feet away, Jace cut down an enemy. “What? Right now?”

“Yes!” Alec yelled and pull his horse back. “Retreat! We’ve been betrayed! Retreat now!” 

But it was impossible. The battle extended to everywhere Alec looked and he wouldn’t be able to run down his way back. Even if he did, that was suicide and it helped no one. He was trapped in a fight he didn’t want to fight as he watched helplessly his people be massacred.

Still, Alec pressed his heels into his horse and made his way back. He knew without looking that Jace was coming behind him and they cut their way through Seelie Knights, barely thinking as they moved by instinct. Every fallen nephilim they saw made the thrill of battle rise, made the righteousness burn brighter.

They went for the commanders, for Gwyn and for Meliorn. Wherever the Knight of Leafs were, so would be the Queen. Slay the head, and the body will fall; Hodge had taught him that years ago. Alec didn’t want to fight the Alliance, but he had no qualms against putting an end to the Seelie Queen’s tyranny. She had been the one who had groomed Sebastian, who had fueled his thirst for power. The one to enable him to start his uprising. It was too late to stop the king by his own, but Alec could still stop the queen.

But when he finally spotted Meliorn another sound took over the battlefield. A chilling howl from thousands of mouths and they came from the rear. 

Alec looked as a massive force of Lukenians crashed against Sebastian’s mercenaires on their backs. The king ought to be there too, as he took the safest place to be for himself. By the end, surrounded by the men who were loyal to his money and his unabling of violence. 

The battle had turned into a three front war. The Shadowhunters fought the Alliance army, the foot soldiers were slaughtered by the Seelies and the mercenaries were taken down by the Lukenians. But where did that last group come from? 

Gasping in realization, Alec turned his horse and slayed another enemy. They had never reached the Moon’s Tears, never took down the Lukenian army there. Instead, Sebastian had the Seelie Queen moving her forces to blockade them while the blessed army climbed up North to Idris. But there was no blockade now.

Strangely, Alec smiled to himself. Magnus had wanted to negotiate, to achieve peace without conflict. Not because he couldn’t win a battle if it came to it; they were about to win now. Magnus wanted peace because he didn’t want death.

“You never cease to amaze me,” Alec whispered quietly. 

Around him, the Seelie forces grew overwhelming, too well trained to be contained by frightened peasants. The nephilims who weren’t down already fled, and, in doing so, left their backs open for the bite of the blades. Alec and Jace exchanged a single look and changed their strategy. They surrounded a group of nephilims who fought for their lives and protected them, shouting for the wounded to be put in the center, away from their attackers. More and more that group grew wider and the proximity gave the soldiers the strength to keep fighting.

It was no way to end the bloodshed, though, so Alec looked to where the Queen was. He could see her watching, her expression emotionless. Meliorn was there guarding her and so, she didn’t even glance at any possible threat that came her way. She just watched, untouchable, ruthless. It was revenge for what had been done to her people, but it was also a countermeasure. In a way, she seemed to be taking away the toys of a child she had spoiled too much. 

Alec hated her. People were not toys, lives were not things to be taken away just to punish one person. He stopped and took out his bow and arrow, aiming and releasing the arrow.

It found its target on Meliorn’s throat. With her knight down, the Seelie Queen finally seemed affected. Her eyes grew wider and she screamed in rage and horror. She looked for the shooter, a vicious light in her eyes. 

But she never found Alec. Behind her, Hodge appeared with his own sword in hand. With a single hard strike, Hodge cut her down, red blood tainting her battle dress as her lifeless body fell over Meliorn’s.

Another horn sounded, at the same time the queen guards’ spears struck Hodge with such strength, he was lifted from the ground. He would not survive that but with the queen down, the Seelie knights crumbled. General Gwyn’s voice called for a retreat and in minutes, only the nephilim remained. At the other front, the Shadowhunters had gathered in a defensive formation while Luke stood with the Alliance’s army, holding them from attacking.

Magnus was there too. Unbloodied, unharmed. Worried. He spotted Alec and made his horse dash forward, crossing the lines until both of them jumped to the ground and embraced.

“Alexander,” Magnus breathed out, hands going all over Alec to look for wounds. “I thought... I had scouts looking for you on the entire battlefield, but nobody found you. I had no idea the Seelies would… I would have never…! You could’ve been ki-”

“I’m fine,” Alec said, taking Magnus’ hands in his. His heart was pounding fast, stronger now that at any point during the battle. “Magnus, I’m fine. I…” Alec swallowed hard, not thinking anymore. “Magnus, I love you.”

The prince gasped, surprised. And then his concerned expression grew soft. “I love you too,” Magnus whispered.

They kissed urgently, as if the gesture made the words even truer. For a single moment, nothing else mattered. Nothing else could reach them. It was over and they were both alive and well. They were together and whatever would come, they would deal with that side by side.

“Alec,” Jace’s voice was filled with alarm and when Alec parted away from his prince, he saw why. Among the soldiers, Simon was riding to them, holding desperately onto his horse and leaving a tail of blood behind. There was a deep cut on his leg as he approached, but he didn’t seem to even consider that as he dismounted. 

Jace had to dismount too and held him in place, but Simon was too focused to even say anything about that. “He’s gone and he’s taken them!” Simon managed to utter, a shriek of pain. “When he saw the battle was lost, he turned back and took them. Aldertree attacked me and went with him.”

“Simon,” Jace said, not unkindly, “calm down. What are you talking about? Who took who?”

The boy inhaled and tears started to come out of his eyes. “When the Lukenians attacked, the mercenary companies fled,” Simon forced his tears down. “Sebastian saw there was no hope. H-he ran away.” Looking up, Simon’s expression turned panicked. “I tried to stop them, but Aldertree struck me… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. They took Clary and Izzy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only two more chapters to go :D 
> 
> As always, the biggest thank you in the world to my extra, extra beta [QueenCow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenCow/pseuds/QueenCow) <3
> 
> I'm on [Tumblr](http://sweetillusionketz.tumblr.com/) and on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/Ketz_CML/). Kudos and comments are always appreciated! I'll be tracking #adop on twitter, if anyone feels like live-tweeting :)
> 
> Ketz


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys <3
> 
> Who is still shook about this week's episode? I am.  
> Who loved it? I did.
> 
> And now, for more shocking scenes.
> 
> Warnings: Minor character deaths, violence, blood.

The war took over thirty thousand lives among soldiers and civilians. 

It was hard for Magnus to even understand what that number meant. When Lord Baal told him the final estimation, all Magnus could do was stare blankly at nothing. They were back to the meeting room of the four kings and queens of the Alliance and Magnus was sitting on his father’s throne. 

He had never felt so small, so powerless.

Luke sat with his queen by his side, speaking softly to her. When Jocelyn was informed her daughter had be taken by Sebastian, rage had fallen upon her like a curse. Jocelyn had tried to go after Clary herself, but thankfully Lady Maia had stopped her. The She Wolf had been injured during the battle, but the cuts to her arms were not enough to stop her from fulfilling her duty as the royal family’s guard.

There was nothing Queen Jocelyn could do that wasn’t already being done. The Alliance had put all available men to the task of finding Sebastian and just as the surviving Shadowhunters were doing under the orders of Alec and Jace, who both joined the searches every day. 

The Battle of the End had shattered the blessed army into pieces: all three of the mercenary companies had abandoned the field when the Lukenians attacked while thousands upon thousands of foot soldiers were killed by the Seelies and those who weren’t, fled back to Alicante. The force of eight hundred Shadowhunters lost a fourth of their numbers before Luke had declared a lay of weapons.

It was not just the nephilim military that suffered. With Sebastian gone and, with him, his lawful successor and his betrothed, the throne of Alicante was considered vacant and without heirs to inherit. The Nephilim Accords stated that, in such situation, a Great Conclave was to be summoned and a new family was to be risen to royalty. 

However, that would only happen with confirmation of total extinction of the current ruler family, which was not the case. Word had been sent to the Clave at Idris and they had refused to nominated the members of the Great Conclave while Sebastian and Clary were still alive.

That was not the only succession crisis, though. The murder of the Seelie Queen had started the Rite of Succession in Faeland, a complex process in which every Seelie citizen could participate if they so wished to and proved their worth. Magnus wasn’t sure about the trials that they were put through, only that a lot of them were lethal. 

The Seelie Court was closed in itself and so would be for the next following months. The only news they had gotten were from General Gwyn ap Nudd and those were underwhelming enough. Just a crude letter that expressed their wish for forgiveness of their late queen’s actions and for recognition of their commitment to the Alliance, exemplified by their attack on the nephilim army.

Magnus had called for no such thing, for he would not recognize treachery as a bargain back to their good graces. He was overruled by the Alpha Major and Queen Lily, who had both decided it was best to allow the nation to blame the machinations entirely on their former queen. 

Faeland was accepted back into the Alliance and Lady Kaelie now sat on the figurative throne, only to pass forward what was decided by the the Seelie Court.

The twin doors of the room opened with a loud thump and Jace walked in with Alec on his heels. They both looked exhausted and frustrated, so it was no surprise when Jace announced they hadn’t made any progresses.

“Reports arrived from Lady Lydia,” Alec said in a toneless voice. “They’ve searched every castle in Alicante and found nothing. The people have been enlisted to help.” He stopped just for a moment. “They’ve burned alive a man that matched Sebastian’s description.”

“I’m assuming they’ve killed the wrong man,” Raphael said, looking slightly disappointed.

Alec just glared at him and took one of the improvised seats that were put in the room for Jace and him. Only the Shadowhunters had stayed behind to keep searching and the Parabatai were given places at the Alliance’s council once they swore their allegiance to the Downworld.

“If he is not in Alicante,” Magnus said, looking the the big map open at the center of the room. “Then he must be in Faeland. Sebastian has no ties to any other kingdom, no place to hide or people to protect him.”

Lady Kaelie narrowed her eyes at him and then turned her face to the side. “As I’ve said before, the Alliance has permission to search ours lands. Sebastian is not at the Seelie Court, which is the only area all outsiders are forbidden to go at this time.”

Arching an eyebrow at her, Luke stared straight into her eyes. “But the fair folk will not aid the search parties.”

The lady shook her head. “The Rite of Succession-”

Magnus made a flourish with his hand to stop her. “Yes, we know. The Rite of Succession forbids the fair folk from talking to outsiders. But without the help of locals, there is no way our search parties will make it in and out from neither the Enchanted Forest nor the the Evergreen Plains safely. Unless we have an exact location to travel to, aimlessly wandering around Faeland means death. Those hellish animals and plants of yours will attack and kill everyone who gets lost.”

A dismissive shrug was Lady Kaelie’s only response. It was not by chance that General Gwyn had left her behind; by forcing Lady Kaelie to communicate with the Alliance, she was excluded from the Rite of Succession and could not strive for the throne, which she certainly would try to do if she was allowed back to Faeland. It was a cruel, but effective measure and Magnus couldn’t help to admire Gwyn’s shrewdness, as he was himself was applying to be king.

“Just say something!” Queen Jocelyn roared and stood up. Both Jace and Luke had to restrain her, or her closed fist would’ve gone for Lady Kaelie’s pretty face for sure. “My daughter is with that monster and you refuse to help!”

“That monster is your son, my lady,” the faery said with a cheeky expression, though she failed to hide the viciousness in her smile.

The confusion was about to erupt, but Alec’s cold voice cut through it like a sharp blade. “He also has my sister. Lady Kaelie cannot do more than she’s done already and there is no point in forcing her. Prince Magnus is right, Sebastian has to be hiding somewhere in Faeland. Travelling there is only safe if you have a destination in mind. Well, I do; Isabelle.” Alec stood up. “In the morning I leave to find my sister. There is no discussion to be held anymore.”

With that, Alec left the room. Jocelyn gasped and let Luke held her as she fought back tears of desperation. Jace was promising her he would go with Alec, since his destination was Clary, when Lord Baal sighed loudly at Magnus’ side.

“Rather clever,” the Master of Secrets said with a hint of surprise, “for a nephilim, that is. They say home is not a place, but a person. Why can’t the same be true for a destination? And I like the way he just leaves the room after declaring his suicide mission. Very dramatic, but gallant.” 

Magnus looked at him. “Then you’re going to enjoy this. I’m going with him.” He didn’t give Lord Baal a chance to protest and rushed into the corridor as well.

As expected, Alec had gone straight to Magnus’ chambers. They had been sharing it in those days of searching and it was only because of Alec’s presence that Magnus remembered to sleep and eat. He did the same for the knight as well, as Alec often neglected himself while trying to figure out a way to get to Isabelle.

“If you came to tell me not to go,” Alec said when Magnus entered the room. He was standing next to the dining table, looking at a map of Faeland. “Don’t even start.”

“I’m going with you,” Magnus said simply and closed the door behind him. “We’ll need provisions and good horses. We will do this together.”

Alec stared at him for an eternal moment and then nodded. “Together.”

They set to work, trying to trace a route through the castles Alec knew already. Magnus had never gone to Faeland except from the one Victory Tourney held there. He remembered Asmodeus calling for curtains at the carriages’ windows and for loud music to be played at all times during the travelling back and forth. They had to cross the Enchanted Forest and that meant being at the mercy of the whispering voices calling their names or of the alluring, pretty animals that sometimes showed up just to lead unsuspecting chasers to their deaths.

And that had happened to a company that knew where they were going. The stories said that anyone who lost their way was done for in less than a night. 

When Alec was barely able to keep his eyes open, Magnus urged both of them to go to bed. True exhaustion was the only way for Alec to fall asleep, Magnus had found out, and he didn’t blame him. If the battle hadn’t given sufficient weight for Alec to carry on his shoulders, Hodge’s death did. One had only to look at Alec to see guilt hovering over his eyes. Magnus, however, was also privy to Alec’s restless nights and the nightmares that always woke him up.

If they were to engage in such a reckless mission, Magnus wanted his knight well rested and alert. It was good, then, that Alec was already snoring softly when Magnus laid beside him in their bed.

Alec’s hand closed over Magnus’, which by then was a force of habit. They needed to touch in order to truly relax, as if to make sure they weren’t only dreaming with each other in that room. 

Magnus looked up, at the intricate Edomian patterns on the headboard, identical to the one on his bed back at Idumea. He brushed his fingers over them, tracing the forms mindlessly. Lord Baal had been right, what they intended to do was a suicide mission. As beautiful as the sentiment behind Alec’s rationalization was, it was hardly a real protection from the horrors they would be facing.

They needed more. They needed to know where to go, where exactly Sebastian was hiding. The sweet dream that was having Alec by his side was but a cruel joke while the reason behind it was a joint effort to save Princess Clary and Lady Isabelle. Magnus couldn’t wait for the moment where having Alec there would be a constant reality, if that moment ever came at all.

Touching his cat eyes pendant, Magnus closed his own eyes. Dwelling on such matters was useless; there were more pressing matters. They needed more than a wish to find the girls. A location, a place to look for. It had to be a castle, a fortress where Sebastian could defend himself, where he felt safe. Somewhere isolated in Faeland, where the fair folk wouldn’t end up stumbling upon.

Somewhere by the sea, with waves crashing against hard rock. It was night there too, but Magnus could smell the ocean, hear its ferocity. The ruins of a castle, cursed they said. There was no light coming from the inside, no murmur of life. It was a cruel, brutal place, served only by cold winds and gray rocks.

And then a gasp. Sebastian opened his eyes, green shining in complete fear. He laid in a simple room, and it was cold in there too. The fear impregnated the walls, the bed, the sheets. It was familiar, in a way. Darkness was all around him, watching him, laughing at him. Sebastian closed his eyes and stood up, walking to the ruins of a window. He wasn’t wearing anything, as if he was used to the chill of the night. There was nobody there with him. 

Outside, the ocean was a black moving mass, splashed by light gray whenever a wave broke. A sad, ominous place that seemed to have banished any joy from sight centuries ago.

Startled, Magnus opened his eyes. 

What was that? He could still smell the faint scent of the ocean as he breathed with his mouth and no matter how warm the furs covering him were, his entire body was shivering. The cozyness of the chamber suddenly seemed too much, too overwhelming in comparison to what he had just saw.

“Magnus…?” Alec sat up, woken up by Magnus’ fright. “What happened?”

“I…” The prince frowned, finally able to push away the sensations. “I had a dream. A demonic dream, I think. But it was not like the ones I usually have.” Magnus swallowed hard. “This one was so real. So straightforward. As if it was answering my questions. It felt… It felt under control.”

Alec blinked, worry coloring his pale features. “What did you dream about? What questions?”

“I wanted to know where Sebastian was,” Magnus whispered, incredulously. He looked at Alec and somehow all his doubts vanished. “And now I do. I know where he is hiding. I saw it.”

\---

They left at the very first light in the morning. Simon had tried to go with them, but Luke forbade it because of his wound. Jace had promised they would bring both Clary and Isabelle back, making a solemn vow of that.

“Well, you’d better. Otherwise it will be up to me to save all of you, and everybody knows how bad that would go,” Simon had answered sincerely. He had eventually resigned to staying back and representing Alicante while the Parabatai were gone, though he had urged Alec to come back quickly to save him from that too.

Aside from Alec and Jace, Magnus had come too and, with him, Ragnor. The Master of Arms had declared that he wanted to be there to watch Sebastian meet his bitter end and that he was not letting Magnus have all the fun. The prince shrugged and Ragnor’s presence actually made Alec feel much better. Losing Hodge had been bad enough and, even though they had burned his body and honored him as a Shadowhunter and a warrior, Alec was having trouble letting go. If one master was gone, at the very least he would have the other there to center him.

Their small group made good pace and they were able to reach the Enchanted Forest in their first day of travelling. Magnus made a point of talking almost the entire time they were awake, as to avoid listening to the forest’s natural sounds. The problem there was not being found by predators; they knew where you were regardless of your best efforts. The problem was letting they get to you. Rarely someone was attacked if they managed not to interact with neither the forest, nor its inhabitants. 

Never look back when you hear your name. Never give chase after a known voice calling for help behind the trees. Never forget where you are going.

When Alec had crossed down Faeland by himself, the only reason he was able to avoid the traps was speed. By making his horse galloped hard and fast, he hadn’t heard anything. Alec never slept in the forest and he didn’t eat anything from it either.

Now, however, they had to go on a slower pace, simply because there were four of them. That meant that every once in awhile, Alec heard his name coming from the woods, where there was nobody standing. He had woke up to Isabelle’s screams during the second night, but nobody else had heard them.

Every time something like that happened, it didn’t matter how fast Magnus was there by his side or how loud Jace talked to him. The only thing that made the noises go away was muttering the name of where they were going. _Gray Bay, Gray Bay, Gray Bay._

It was there, at the cursed ruins of Radiant by the East, that Sebastian was hiding. The small household was destroyed by a vicious storm when the ancient gods discovered the lord who lived there had lied to them, or so the story said. Both the lord and his family were washed out of the castle and drowned at the dim waters down below.

What was once a beautiful beach, beloved by its peacefulness and warmth became a bleak, chilly place where the sun was forever covered by dark clouds. It was said that the ocean was still trying to tear apart every inch of the ruins and venturing at the sea was asking for a slow, horrible death.

It seemed fitting that there was where Sebastian had spent the last decade. Where the Seelie Queen had hid and guarded him, allowing for his rage to grow larger every day.

Alec wasn’t sure where it was worse, the forest or their destination. Still, when they reached the end of the woods, he finally breathed out in relief. They knew better than to talk about the things they’d heard, for it only made the noises grow louder, but Alec didn’t need to discuss their nightmares in order to know how affected the others were. All he had to do was look at them. 

He figured he wasn’t looking much better himself.

“I can see it,” Magnus said when they stopped for a break on their way East. Just hours away, Radiant precariously stood by the edge of the cliff. The castle seemed ready to fall at any given moment, if only the wind blew stronger.

Ragnor swallowed hard and looked at them. “We’ll get as close as we dare by horse, but we approach by foot. We don’t know if they are watching, so the less noise, the better. The sky is turning darker by the minute and that is good for us. There are no dungeons there, so the princess and Lady Isabelle are most likely kept in the rooms.”

Jace gritted his teeth. He had been unusually quiet and Alec suspected it had to do with what he’d heard in the Enchanted Forest. “Sebastian is mine. Alec, you get Aldertree. Ragnor and Magnus go for the girls.”

No titles, no proper courtesy. Jace had only one thing in his mind. 

And Alec did too. “They are dead men already.”

Magnus and Ragnor exchanged a concerned look, but neither offered a protest. The Master of Arms just sighed and moved to his horse, putting an end to the break. “Just try not to have too much fun, boys.”

Infiltrating the ruins was easier than Alec expected it to be. There were just a handful of mercenaries guarding the entrance and between Jace, Ragnor and him, the guards were taken down quickly. The wreckage of the castle made it perfect to find places to hide behind and wait to attack, and Alec’s arrows found each of their targets as they advanced to inside the main hall.

Only when the four of them got to the main corridor that lead to the rooms that an alarm sounded. More mercenaries came at them, but in the narrow corridor swords and spears were no match to arrows and well placed daggers. The Parabatai opened their way in time to catch Sebastian dragging Clary down to the terrace at the level of the rocks.

Jace roared, dashing after his princess. More enemies fell upon them, coming from behind, and Magnus was able to block a blow directed at Alec by using the dagger he had been gifted with. Ragnor put himself between the attackers and the prince and shouted for Alec. “Take him! Find your sister!”

Without a moment of hesitation, Alec grabbed Magnus by the wrist and started to force open each door in their way, searching for Isabelle. 

Magnus was doing the same at the other side of the corridor. Suddenly, however, he stopped when the door the prince kicked open revealed a particularly destroyed chamber. Magnus stepped in, seemly mesmerized by the place.

“She’s not there,” Alec said, following him inside. The room was a horrible picture; every piece of furniture appeared to have been damaged in a way, as if a wild animal had been caged there.

“Go.” Magnus looked around, hands hovering over the broken things. “I have to investigate something.”

Alec wanted to say no, to drag Magnus out of that hellhole, but there was no time to argue. “Lock the door behind me,” he said and went to keep looking for his sister.

After checking every room in vain, Alec grunted in frustration. Where could she be? If Sebastian had Clary, then Isabelle would be left with Aldertree. That thought alone sent a shiver up Alec’s spine, but it also helped for him to figure out where they would be.

There was no love lost between Aldertree and their former king. If they were attacked, he would try to escape. Alec found the path to the stables, preparing his bow and arrow on the way.

“Quiet!” Aldertree’s voice hissed as Alec approached. “Be quiet, my lady. You should be thankful I am taking you with me.”

Isabelle’s disdainful sneer put a smile on Alec’s lips. “I’ll be thankful when you drop dead. Now let go of me.”

“Quiet,” Aldertree repeated himself. “I’ve always fancied you, Lady Isabelle, and I would make you my wife once I deliver you back to your brother, but if you insist on being unhelpful I might just leave you behind.”

“What can I say, my lord? I am tired of arranged marriages.” A dry thump sounded and Aldertree whimpered. “I’m sure you can understand why.”

The general cursed and Alec could hear the hatred in his voice. “I’m sure your family won’t mind getting you back with a few teeth missing.”

“Actually,” Alec said and stepped inside the stables, arrow ready to fly, “we would.”

Aldertree stopped, open palm still in the air, midway through Isabelle’s face. She had her wrists tied up by heavy chains and she was still in the same dress she had worn during the Battle of the End. Isabelle’s hair was undone and unbrushed, a cascade of black knots. She seemed a shade paler, as if that miserable place had stole some of her inner life as well.

Alec had never been this happy seeing her. And he grew even happier when Isabelle quickly used the moment of surprise to blast her chains against Aldertree’s face, knocking him to his back. He reached for his sword, which he’d dropped during the fall, but Alec put an arrow on his hand.

The painful screech didn’t last long. Isabelle got hold of the fallen sword and buried the blade in Aldertree’s chest.

“Right at the heart,” Alec said, impressed.

Isabelle rolled her eyes. “That would require him to have one.” She launched herself against Alec and sighed in relief when her brother’s arms held her tight. The embrace didn’t last for long, as Isabelle took a step back. “Clary! I let they take me so I could protect her, but they kept us in separate rooms.”

“Jace went after her,” Alec said and kneeled beside Aldertree, searching for a key in his clothes. When he found it, Alec quickly freed Isabelle’s wrists from the cuffs. “Are you well? Did he hurt you?”

“I could use a bath and new clothes. Other than that, I’m just fine.” Isabelle kept the sword to herself and she didn’t look half as clumsy with it as she ought to be. Alec was quite sure it wasn’t her first time holding a weapon but the thought wasn’t half as disturbing as it should, he pondered as they went back for their friends.

They arrived at the terrace in time to see Jace cornering Sebastian one blow at a time. As talented as their former king was with a sword, he was no match for Jace at his prime; every slice was perfect, every hit, calculated. All Sebastian could do not to be cut into pieces was defend himself.

Princess Clary was also in the room, not cowered in a corner, but following the fight with smart eyes. Just like Isabelle, the princess was also wearing the same clothes as before and her hair was a mess of red curls. Only her hands were free.

Clary nodded to each word Jace roared as he kept attacking. “I’ve trusted you! I used to looked up to you! I loved you!” Jace slashed and turned and slashed again, forcing Sebastian to give up ground every time. “You were my king! My friend!”

“I still am!” Sebastian shouted back, barely avoiding a strike. Like the castle, he also looked ruined, a ghost of what he once had been. Or maybe not. Maybe that was the real image of Sebastian, a weak and coward man, lashing screams but incapable of doing anything else. “I am your king! This is treason! Oath breaker!”

“Oath breaker?!” Jace sneered in utter contempt. “You were the one who broke oaths. You vowed to bring us home, to put a stop to our torment. But you made it twice as bad! You brought us home, that you did. And then you torched our land and burned the Silent Brothers. You promised to protect our own, but then murdered our people one by one. You wanted a righteous war, but then you abandoned your kingdom at the battlefield. You told Alec and I that you would get all of us together again, and then you took Izzy and Clary away!”

The last accusation came with a blow strong enough to knocked Sebastian’s sword away. He looked for anything to grab, but there was nothing within reach between him and the broken edge of the terrace. There was nothing left for him to do. Not when Jace put the edge of his sword right under Sebastian’s chin. 

“You don’t deserve to be king,” Jace said and his voice cut just as deep as his blade. “You don’t deserve devotion. Or love. Or even the slightest bit of respect.”

“I am your king,” Sebastian hissed, his dark green eyes almost black in his outrage. He was panting, his hair disheveled. There was nothing regal about Sebastian anymore, not even a shadow of the bright prince he once was.

Jace stared at him and there was no emotion on his face. “Alicante has no King,” he declared. “Only a Queen.”

Confusion took over Sebastian’s face, but only for the briefest of moment. On the next second, Clary was on him, her hand curled into a fist. The surprise destabilized Sebastian almost as much as the punch did and he fell on his his knees. It was all that Jace needed to land the first hit, a deep slash across Sebastian’s chest.

The second blow cut Sebastian’s throat open and Jace, Death in Two, kicked the body of the man who had almost killed Alicante down into the dark waters of Gray Bay.

\---

The room was just like Magnus had seen it in his demonic dream. He still didn’t understand why that dream had been so different from the others, so clear and easy to access. Magnus was used to blurred images and scary sounds. Demonic dreams were always confusing and they left a horrible feeling in Magnus’ heart once they were done tormenting him.

But that one hadn’t. While Magnus was dreaming, he felt as if he was standing in that room. He could see it clearly, feel every sensation he felt now. There were no symbols to be deciphered, just an answer to Magnus’ questions.

Even if he had felt just as drained as any time he had one of those visions, for the first time there was no sense of dread lingering behind. Somehow it felt right, it felt under control.

Magnus had tried to have more demonic dreams, but nothing came. He wasn’t sure it was because of the Enchanted Forest’s atmosphere or because he was doing something wrong, but still he hadn’t given up on trying again. Once the day was over and he was back to Idumea, he would have more opportunities and time. Maybe he could even go to the Spiral Labyrinth and research some more.

Standing where he was now, however, presented him a different possibility for testing. Magnus had seen that room in his dream and walking around it made him realize that his vision had missed a couple of details.

Although the sentiment of despair was the same, Magnus hadn’t been able to see all the damaged furniture before. That could be attributed to both the lack of light and Magnus’ surprise at what was happening and not necessarily a fault to the dream itself. Still, the rough structure of the room was just as Magnus had seen it; simple, partially destroyed and completely uninviting. He couldn’t imagine coming to this place every night.

And Sebastian had. According to what Alec and Jace had told him, the Seelie Queen had whisked Sebastian and Hodge away from King Valentine at the last days of the Mortal War, and brought them to live in that ghost of a castle. The only servants they had were criminals condemned to die, who were employed there as a chance for paying their debts to the Seelie Court and possibly avoid execution. Their tongues were ripped out so they wouldn’t tell anyone of the prince’s location and a servant never stayed there for more than a few weeks time.

The prince had been around ten and two when he arrived there, and Hodge had stayed with him for three more years until a group of Edomians guards passed by the ruins and heard them practicing with swords. Sebastian hid, but he saw it all when the soldiers dragged Hodge away.

The boy was alone after that and the servants offered him no comforts, nor words. The queen herself had only visited him once, but she had sent Lady Kaelie there to check on Sebastian a few times over the years. The visits never lasted longer than a couple of days and they were the only things that kept Sebastian in touch with the world beyond those wreckage walls.

“Such a sad life,” Magnus whispered to himself. He walked to the desk table and pulled open a drawer. There were open letters there and Magnus recognized Alec’s small and rushed handwriting on a few. The elegant one was probably Isabelle’s and there were many from Jace too. 

Magnus gathered the letters, but did not read them. Be them conspiracy plans or just messages between friends, they were not his to read. Let Alec and the others decide what to do with those. 

On the wall behind the table there was a dusty mirror, half shattered to pieces. Magnus stared at the many versions of himself staring back. The way the pieces stood, he could see parts of his face and clothing, and one fragment even captured his cat-eye pendant exclusively.

A distortion of reality. Everywhere he looked in that room, that was what he saw.

The door blasted open and Magnus turned, dagger in hand. Ragnor walked in and he had splashes of blood on his clothing, but no injuries of himself. Good. 

The Master of Arms looked around with a deep frown in his face. “What is this place?”

“The monster’s lair,” Magnus said calmly. “We’re in Sebastian’s bed chambers.”

Ragnor arched his eyebrows at him and crossed his arms. “It gives me the chills, so I guess it is fitting.”

Magnus nodded in agreement. “It is, except for one thing.” He walked up to the bed and looked at the headboard. “What is this doing here?”

Just as he remembered from the demonic dream, the headboard of Sebastian’s bed sported Edomians pattern of decoration, not so different from the ones on Magnus’ bed. They were distinguishably well done, despite the lack of care. The prominent circles and lines formed the haunting, but beautiful runes that formed the language of the warlocks.

“Why is there Edomian furniture in an abandoned Seelie castle?” Magnus asked and brushed his fingers over the decoration. Some of the embroidery had been hacked away by strong blows and they revealed the veins of wood beneath them. 

“It can’t be for the fashion of it,” Ragnor said, though Magnus was barely listening. “That style has gone obsolete centuries ago. Only the royal palace still uses it, for its classical feeling.”

Magnus nodded, digging his finger through a particularly circular hole where there was supposed to be the end of a line. “It’s my father’s favorite style,” he said absently.

There was some kind of dry powder in that crack and touching it sent the world spinning around Magnus, but just for the split of a second. When he looked at his finger, he realized the powder had a familiar glassy white color.

Frowning, Magnus grabbed Alec’s dagger again. He used the hilt to blast another embroidery out of the headboard. Wood splintered in every direction, but it wasn’t the only thing that fell.

Hidden behind the pattern there was a Dream Stone.

Hitting another section, Magnus kept savaging the piece. More and more Dream Stones fell, forming a collection of a few hundreds of them. Some were chipped and there was a good deal of powder, but the round pebbles were everywhere.

Ragnor only stared in silence, watching Magnus work. “What does this mean?”

“It means my father didn’t banish Dream Stones, he merely kept them all to himself.” Magnus picked up one and threw it through the broken wall into the ocean. “It means that he had probably been visiting Sebastian’s mind and I don’t think it was to bring him good dreams.”

“The King knew where Sebastian was. He must have been behind the little prince’s disappearance in the war, along with the Seelie Queen.” Ragnor swallowed hard, realization of what that meant coming to him slowly. “He tortured Sebastian to madness.”

Magnus closed his eyes. There was no anger in him, no sense of vengeance towards his father. Only disappointment. “The King drove Sebastian to the edge, but power pushed him into madness. My father… My father helped shape Sebastian into the monster he became. He betrayed the Alliance before it had even won the Mortal War.”

A careful hand curled up Magnus’ shoulder and when he looked up, Ragnor’s shocked expression turned from worry to anger. “My prince,” he said, almost too low for Magnus to hear. Revulsion took over Ragnor’s voice as he kept going. “I don’t think Sebastian is the only victim of this. I think there is someone else who Asmodeus has been toying with.”

The image of Magnus’ own bed flashed in his mind. Not the one in Downworlder City, but the one in Idumea. The one where all the horrible demonic dreams tormented him. The one where sleeping by himself always seemed such a horrific experience. 

The familiar feeling of darkness came from there.

And then Magnus thought of the peaceful nights in Downworlder City, on how his sleep pattern grew healthier and fulfilling. How that made his eating habits improve too and that, in turn, boosted his will to be involved, to learn how to rule. Stressful days didn’t bother Magnus anymore and even with the weight of the world on his shoulders, he had been able to sleep while serving the Alliance.

Not one demonic dream touched him there. Not until Magnus called for them.

Dumbfounded, Magnus blinked with realization. “You’re right. Sebastian wasn’t the only one my father was pushing into madness. He was doing the same to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big kiss to everyone who was asking about Asmodeus.
> 
> Once more, thank you [QueenCow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenCow/pseuds/QueenCow) for betaing and being so extra <3
> 
> I'm on [Tumblr](http://sweetillusionketz.tumblr.com/) and on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/Ketz_CML/). Kudos and comments are always appreciated! I'll be tracking #adop on twitter, if anyone feels like live-tweeting :)
> 
> Ketz


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, the story ends.

Alec pulled the collar of his blouse away from his neck as he looked at his image in the mirror. He was dressed entirely in black, but that was about the only thing he liked about it. The trousers were too tight and they hugged his legs as he walked. The worst part, however, was the silk blouse underneath his vest; it was too puffy and it seriously reminded him of some of his sister’s dresses.

“I hate it,” he said at last and received an exasperated sigh from Magnus, who was sitting at the bed.

The prince crossed his arms. Of course he was looking astonishingly beautiful in deep purple robes with strokes of gold every now and then. “Alexander,” Magnus said in a tone most often used with whiney children, “I had my best tailor design and sew that outfit for you. It is the perfect balance between your role as Parabatai, your title as a nephilim nobleman and your past at the Edomian court. It is a symbol of change, of new beginnings. A masterpiece to be worn at your Queen’s coronation.”

Pushing his lips together stubbornly, Alec grimaced. “It’s… puffy.”

Magnus rolled his eyes and then a mischievous smirk crossed his lips. “You can always wear your Seelie silks. You did look marvelous last night.”

Warmth prickled on Alec’s cheeks, but he managed to hide his embarrassment with annoyance as he remembered the look on Magnus’ face when he saw Alec in the silks. “I can’t wear them anymore. You tore the pants apart.”

“I’m not to blame.” Magnus shrugged nonchalantly and there wasn’t a trace of regret in him. “Any sane man would do the same in my place. Besides, I can arrange for a new set to be made now that I have your measurements. Maybe blue silk this time. Though you would look scandalous in red, I think.”

Alec rolled his eyes but then realized the prince meant what he said. “You’ve already sent for one, haven’t you?”

“Of course I did.” Magnus smiled brightly. “I hope Lord Baal won’t take too long, or else he’ll miss the ceremony.”

Groaning, Alec turned to him. “Couldn’t you have sent anyone else? And I do mean literally anyone.”

Magnus shook his head and stood up, walking up to Alec and fixing his collar. “Not if we want to keep it a secret. This is Baal’s speciality after all.” He kissed Alec on the lips, producing a smile on his lips. “We should go now. It is not polite to keep a queen waiting.”

Snorting, Alec offered him an arm. Their relationship was the worst kept secret in the five realms and there was no use pretending they were not together in every way that counted, even if the entire nephilim nobility had came South to witness Clary’s coronation. 

It was also essential that they cherished every bit of time they still had. Soon, Magnus would go back to Idumea to face his father and Alec would travel North to Alicante. They would be apart, with no prospects of re-encounter. It was a future neither of them wanted to talk about.

But they would have to, and soon. After their rescue party was back from Faeland, things had worked out quickly. Jace had laid Sebastian’s sword as proof of his death and Clary was appointed as Sebastian’s heir. In a matter of days, she was already acting the part and making decisions in the name of Alicante.

Her first decision was that her coronation would take place in Downworlder City, which gave Alec and Magnus some time to enjoy each other a bit more. It had great political motivations as well; not only did holding the ceremony there honor the Alliance, it was also a step in the direction of friendship. Alec and Jace helped Clary navigate the politics, but it was really Isabelle who drafted the agreement that sealed the peace between North and South. 

She had been in charge of the arrangements of the coronation too, alongside Magnus and Jocelyn. Together, they had planned a party worthy of celebrating the rise of Alicante’s new monarch and the end of the war.

And the day had finally arrived. Hence Alec’s poshy new clothes.

His biggest consolation was that Jace looked equally ridiculous. He too was wearing puffy sleeves and some miserable pants. However, unlike Alec, the bastard seemed comfortable in them. He was chatting excitedly with Simon when Alec and Magnus entered the big hall, a grin on his lips.

The same one Jace had been sporting since they had came back. He seemed incapable of stopping smiling and his bicolored eyes shone with a different light. It was lighter, happier and it made Alec smile too.

And whenever Alec smiled, so did Magnus. “You may not like the clothes,” the prince said diplomatically, “but I think you look dashing in them.”

Alec rested his hand on Magnus and his smile grew fond. “But only half as dashing as your Highness.”

“Ass kisser,” Magnus teased, but couldn’t help the smirk on his lips.

“Damn right I am.” Alec chuckled and walked the prince to where the Downworlder Royalty would be watching the ceremony. 

The Alpha Major and his Queen were sitting there. Jocelyn’s eyes were rarely dry these days and she was already fighting tears as Magnus took his seat. He made her laugh with a witty quip and Luke smiled at Alec gently.

“You look like a proper lord,” the Alpha Major observed approvingly.

“I think I prefer to look like a knight.” Alec sighed and looked at his parents were seated with little Max. To Alec’s horror, he realized his clothes were very similar to his father’s. “Yes, definitely.”

Luke chuckled. “You won’t be needing an armor today.”

Alec suppressed the urge to point out that boiled leather would do and instead he just nodded. “Hopefully I won’t need one for years to come.” He bowed respectfully and excused himself, passing by Queen Lily and the Undead Raphael in his way to the nephilim sector.

The new Queen of the Night winked at him. While helping Clary, Alec and Lily had grown closer and closer at every meeting. It’d happened the day Lady Maia was accompanying Luke and the two women started arguing over some old quarrel between Lukos and Vampatria. Alec had snapped at them and both had ganged up on him right away. And thus a blossoming friendship was born. 

Finally, Alec joined with his Parabatai and his sister where the nephilim nobility was waiting. Alec barely had time to greet Isabelle before the royal horns announced Clary’s entrance. Her hair was tied up in intricate little braids and she looked radiant in a royal red gown. The color represented a new birth, not only to her, but for her entire nation, as well as the end of their sins.

Brother Zachariah, one of the few Silent Brothers who were not at the City of Bones when it burned to a crisp, stumped his staff on the floor three times, silencing the entire room. Just like all the men of his order, he had grey complexion from staying away from the sun and the gravity of those who know too much. 

As the Silent Brother announced Queen Clarissa Fray, First of the House of Fray, Rightful Lady of Alicante and blessed her in the name of the Angel Raziel, Alec couldn’t help but think of the old High Warlock that conducted Madzie’s Mark Day or the Undeads of Vampatria. Those people were the closest to the gods, whatever faith they might serve, and they carried with themselves a weight as heavy as any king’s. 

To have Clary’s claim recognized by Brother Zachariah legitimated her rule further than any crown ever could. It was no secret that the people looked for the Parabatai for protection after the Battle of the End and they favored Jace’s beloved and now they had the representatives of the Angel at her side. Any disputes over the throne the Clave could start were quashed before they even started. 

They had a ruler, one that was behind peace between all nations and sought a future where innocents wouldn’t suffer for other people’s crimes.

Clary swore her vow as queen, to protect and serve the realm to the best of her capacities and turned to her subjects. Jace’s voice was the loudest as they all shouted together. “Long live the Queen!”

Gently, Clary touched the crown on her head and smiled quietly, a rush of relief in her face. It was done. Isabelle smiled and crossed her arms against her chest. “Now this is a sovereign I am glad to serve.”

“Wait for it,” Alec said and he wasn’t surprised when Clary didn’t turn to sit with the rest of the monarchs, as she was supposed to do.

“My lords and ladies,” Clary spoke up, breaking the entire protocol. She was met with a deafening silence, but that did not discourage her from continuing. “Before we continue this celebration, I must announce changes of the utmost urgency. First of all, would Lady Isabelle present herself?”

A look of concern crossed Isabelle’s face, but she shrugged and stepped forward. “Your Grace.”

Clary inhaled deeply. “Lady Isabelle, your role in achieving peace is no small matter. Because of your political skills, vast experience and proven expertise, I name you Consul of the Clave.” 

And with that, Clary bestowed Isabelle with the highest rank among nephilim nobility, below only to the monarch. The timing was hardly orthodoxal, however. The appointments were supposed to happen once they were back to Idris. They still counted, though the increasing whispering among the people presented showed how unusual the queen was behaving.

But Clary was not quite yet done. “Would the Parabatai approach?”

Alec frowned, but Jace didn’t seem surprised at all. Whatever was happening, he was privy to Clary’s plan and approved of it. Realizing that did little to soothe Alec’s worries. The usual procedure when a new ruler ascended to the throne was to dismiss the Parabatai of the former, give them titles at the court, and appoint new ones. Somehow, Alec doubted things would go so smoothly with Clary in charge.

Nonetheless, he joined Jace and kneeled in front of their queen. 

“Lord Jace, Lord Alec, you have served Alicante bravely and honorably.” Clary swallowed hard. “It is because of the two of you that the greatest threat to Alicante and to our neighbors has been defeated. Lord Alec orchestrated the cooperation between the Alliance and us, while Lord Jace slew the traitor Sebastian and saved me. Your services have entered history as invaluable and you have proved your loyalty and worth.” 

She smiled to herself. “I, Queen Clary, relieve you from the service as Parabatai. From now on, you may serve the crown in other capacities. Lord Alec, given your diplomatic and strategical skills, as well as your past experiences, I name you Alicante’s Representative at the Downworld, and charge you to deal in my name at a downworlder court of your choosing. Rise.”

Blinking, Alec managed to hide his surprise for enough time to rise and bow. A court of his choosing. He could go to Edom, and this time he would be free to go back home whenever he liked. Alec was free to stay with Magnus and still serve his kingdom.

Was that the ploy Jace and Clary were so smug about? If so, Alec liked it immensely.

“As for Lord Jace,” the queen continued before the murmuring grew too loud. “To you, I have no positions to offer, only my heart.” Clary smiled cheekily. “I maintain our betrothal. We will be married on the next full moon.”

Jace smiled his golden smile and rose, hugging his queen. Alec and Isabelle exchanged a look and the knight had a feeling they would be doing that a lot during Clary’s reign. 

Finally, Clary turned to the rest, hand in Jace’s. “I hereby announce that I will not appoint anyone as Parabatai. Instead, I shall have a Queen’s Guard, captained by Simon Lewis.” She raised a hand, stopping the protests to come. “Lastly, I declare Alicante’s interested in joining the Alliance as its fifth member. Let the peace between all nations be true and lasting.”

Her words were followed by an uproar that came from all sides of the room and Jace quickly whisked the queen away. Alec and Isabelle followed them to the private chamber behind the main hall and closed the door after Simon slipped in with them. 

Isabelle smiled brightly at her brother. “Clary did great, didn’t she? This ought to put things on track.”

Jace, who had not let go of the queen, smiled and nodded. “Perfectly done.”

Clary and Simon were beaming to each other, and with everyone so excited, Alec could do little but to sigh and nod. “I am thankful for my new post,” he managed to say.

The queen smiled. “It was Izzy’s idea. Oh, but Alec, you are to come back home for the wedding. And bring Magnus!”

“And then we can all go South when you wed the Prince of Darkness,” Simon said cheerfully. “I don’t mind travelling up and down if it is for good food and a party. And I am pretty sure-,” he choked on his words when he saw the glare Alec was giving him, “that you can’t punch me. I’m recovering from serious wounds.”

Jace arched an eyebrow at him. “You have a cut.”

Simon nodded. “And I would like to keep it at that, thank you very much. I’ve seen Alec put down a wall with his shoulder, I am not interested in learning what he can do with his fist.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Alec sighed heavily and moved away with his sister at his arm. Jace and Simon kept argueing, to Clary’s amusement.

Alec turned to Isabelle. “What about you? Any marriage plan in your future, dear sister?”

“I’m a little wary of marriages,” Isabelle said, but her eyes drafted to Simon and there was fondness in them. “But who knows? Maybe in time I might find myself warming up to the idea again.” She smirked and winked at Alec. “I’ll keep you informed, big bro.”

\---

Their carriage arrived at Idumea’s gate after four days of travelling. Magnus had spent the last hours of the trip sitting with Lord Baal and Lord Ragnor, after riding with Alec for most of the morning. He needed to gather his strength before facing his court, before bringing them the accusations against his father. Whatever he did, it had to be carefully planned.

Otherwise, Magnus would just find Asmodeus and punch him until he coughed his own teeth away.

“As delightful of a plan as that sounds,” Lord Baal had said when Magnus had first proposed it, “I wouldn’t say it is the most lasting approach. If you want to take the crown, I mean.”

But did Magnus want the crown? He never did before, but now Magnus was certainly already being treated as king, if not by the Edomians, by everyone else. He had signed the treaty that formed the new Alliance under his authority and yielded the Edomian seal that put it in motion. All five nations shared the peace under the new accords and the sins of past rulers were forgiven in the light of their passing.

Queen Clary had returned to Alicante with the difficult mission of rebuilding her country while Queen Lily had to prove herself to her new subjects. The Alpha Major had the easiest job of them all, and yet he had to deal with dissatisfied Alphas that had claimed for nephilim and seelie blood in retribution of what had been spilled. The Seelie King, as Gwyin would be henceforward known as, had a shattered country to manage and a court full of oppositors just waiting for him to make the smallest mistake.

And then there was Magnus, who many would say was about to usurp his father. The war had not only taken lives, but it had put an end to a decade of stability.

The carriage dangled and Magnus couldn’t help the smile on his lips when the door opened with the thing still in motion. The first time Alec had done that, it nearly gave Magnus a heart attack, but now he had learned to appreciate his knight’s reckless entrances. 

Lord Baal did not. “I can’t wait for us to arrive and these antics are put to an end. Just because you haven’t turned the carriage upside down yet, it doesn’t mean it won’t happen.”

Alec just smiled, closing the door behind him and sitting beside Magnus. He had promised Magnus to hold his tongue when dealing with Baal and so far Alec had been doing a marvelous job. His lack of reaction usually meant the lord grew bored quickly and ceased his provocations, if he did any at all. It was a fickle tactic, but it was working. 

That is, when Ragnor didn’t take his pupil’s side. The closer they got to the royal castle, the more the fighting master seemed keen in taking on Baal. Magnus wondered what that rivalry was about. “Rest assured Lord Alec is in excellent shape and his antics are perfectly planned. You needn’t worry about his weight disrupting the carriage’s balance. Especially considering my lord himself is not nearly in such an amazing shape as Lord Alec is.”

The Master of Arms was grasping at straw at best, but it made Baal grit his teeth nonetheless. “Only a blind person could ever say something of the sort. Besides, not all of us rely on our bodies for the execution of our tasks. I rely on my mind and it is as sharp as ever.”

“I’m sure you meant that as a comfort.” Ragnor arched an eyebrow at him.

As they kept exchanging slights, Alec turned to Magnus and held his hand. “How are you doing, my prince?”

Ever since Alec had came back for Magnus and found him in Sebastian’s chambers, destroying Dream Stones until his hands were bleeding, the knight had been especially caring towards him. Ragnor had to be the one to explain about their discovery and Magnus knew for a fact Alec had unleashed his rage in the training arena, but, to Magnus, Alec offered just love and time. 

He never pressured the prince to talk, stopping at a questioning about his well-being. Alec had made himself available whenever Magnus needed him, and many of those times happened at night, when Magnus woke up in tears and Alec just hold him tight and murmured against Magnus’ hair that everything was alright. Only once Magnus had spoke about his father’s treason and how deeply it hurt. Alec had listened and after told him that, for every moment Asmodeus had failed him, there was someone in Magnus’ life that loved him with all their heart.

Magnus smiled at Alec and laced their fingers together. “Nervous, I am not going to lie. But now that I cannot delay this moment any longer, all I want is to get this over with. The quicker, the better.”

Nodding, Alec tightened his grip. “Are you sure you don’t want me there with you?”

“My dashing knight.” Magnus smiled and brushed Alec’s hand with his thumb. “My father will use any weapon against me and having you there by my side will only give him ammunition. Regardless, I always carry you with me.” He moved his free hand to the arrow shaped pendant hanging on his neck. “I won’t be alone.”

Alec pushed his lips together, but nodded. “All right.”

“Besides,” Magnus said with a tentative smile. He didn’t feel nearly as certain about his plan as he’d like, but it was all that he got. “I’ll have a job for you.” Magnus turned to the quarreling men and raised his voice. “I’ll have a job for all of you. So if you put an ending to your differences for a while, I would appreciate if we focused on the task ahead of us.”

That was met with a reluctant silence and Magnus sighed, seizing it before it was too late. He had shared what he thought with Alec and Baal, and heard their opinions on the matter. Just like Ragnor, they believed it to be sufficient infractions to dispose Asmodeus from his throne.

_An attempt against the royal line,_ Alec had said through clenched teeth, both hands curled in tight fists. _To put it mildly._

Lord Baal had gone one up. _Definitely a break of trust with the Alliance and the collaboration with its sworn enemies._

Those two allegations were serious and enough for Magnus to act upon his father. Still, he hesitated. It wasn’t because he feared Asmodeus, not quite. But he also didn’t feel entirely confident in what he had to do. As horrible of a man as Asmodeus was, he was still Magnus’ father, his king. He had never been kind in neither capacity, but it was because of him that the kingdom of Edom had grown so strong. Without Asmodeus, they would have never won the Mortal War.

And without him, Sebastian would have never created a second war.

_Just relieve him of his head_ , Lord Ragnor had shrugged when Magnus voiced his reluctance. But it wasn’t that easy. Magnus needed an official reason to dispose of the king, one that justified the end of his father’s reign. He had the back of the Alliance, but that alone didn’t guarantee the support of the Edomian nobles. They were too afraid of Asmodeus to back up a rival without the certainty of victory.

Even the Prince of Darkness.

“You need to have the nobles at your side. In order to do that, you need to show them having you as king will benefit them more than having Asmodeus,” Lord Baal said as they started planning. “King Asmodeus allows them freedom, because he does not care otherwise. He turns a blind eye to their corruption, to their breaking of the laws. You cannot offer that.” 

Ragnor nodded. “If anything, my prince, you’ve been the one to put a stop to many dangerous aspirations from rebellious lords and ladies before. They know you won’t let them run free.”

Magnus pondered over that. “I can’t offer them the same perks my father gives them. So I’ll have to convince the nobles that his gifts are poison. That he gives them just as easily as he takes them away. That his lack of care is dangerous, not beneficial.”

“How are you going to do that?” Alec asked carefully. By the way his eyes turned dark, Magnus was sure he knew the answer already.

The prince sighed. “I am going to show them the monster behind the man, and let them decide whether to cage him or let him loose.” Magnus pushed his lips together, eyebrows arched. “If I’m lucky, I’ll even get some answers in the process.”

The look of worry on Alec’s face was the only thing Magnus thought of as they arrived at the castle and he dispatched Lord Baal to summon an urgent meeting with the most powerful nobles in court. Anyone that had power was to meet in the Great Hall. Magnus brought Alec directly to his chambers and kissed him senseless until Magnus had his knight’s bravery burning in his heart.

And then, Magnus marched to meet his countrymen. He stopped at his favorite anteroom, the one he usually used to get himself drunk enough to endure these meetings during the time his father still held court. It was dark in there, all windows closed and sealed. Magnus sighed and closed his eyes.

Just to turn around and find his father, the King of Darkness, sitting at the shadows.

“Father,” Magnus said and opened the bottle of wine he had been eyeing. He did not pour it into a cup, instead simply took a sip straight from it.

“I hear you’ve gathered the nobles. Or rather, anyone with power.” The King said, sipping from a cup of his own. “Yet, I was not extended an invitation myself. Odd.”

Magnus stared at the bottle in his hands. At the dark wine, so similar to blood. “I bring news of the war and the New Alliance. I didn’t think you would be interested in such matters.” He moved to the door before his father could see his hand shaking.

“I am not,” Asmodeus said, stopping Magnus from completely opening the door. “But I am interested in the reverence I am entitled to as king.”

“Then you are more than welcomed to join us, your Majesty.” Magnus looked at him.

But the king laughed disdainfully. “I wouldn’t even if I didn’t know what you are going to say. The boy king is dead and you’ve accepted his baby sister as the new nephilim ruler.” He frowned, as if just remembering something. “And there was some nonsense about allowing Alicante into the Alliance. Not to mention the death of many monarchs. Oh, there is one thing I don’t know. How is our good friend Camille?”

“Rotting in a dungeon in Vampatria,” Magnus answered as neutrally as he could. “A kinder fate than your friend the Seelie Queen had.”

Asmodeus nodded, but he seemed bored already. “Yes. A piece of advice before you enter in that cage of lions and get devoured. Remember to get friendly with the new king. Faeland could be useful in the future.” He snickered. “That is, if you aren’t too busy with your lover. You brought him back home with you, I hear. He is already in your chambers as we speak. Very profitable war indeed.” He gestured to the door in a dismissive way. “Good job, son.”

But Magnus shook his head, not moving an inch. “I am not done talking to you.” The prince inhaled sharply and thought of Alec. “I just got back from war, after months spent away. I have learned much and more during this time, on how to rule and what kind of monarch I want to be. But father, there is something else I’ve learned. Something that regards you. You and your crimes.”

The speech only drew a reaction at its very last sentence and even then, all it accomplished was to make Asmodeus arched an eyebrow.

Magnus kept going. “The ploy with Camille was not the first time you moved against the Alliance, only your most recent try. The oldest one, however, was successful while this one was not. You helped the Seelie Queen whisk away the nephilim prince and raised him at Gray Bay, the most cursed place in the face of the planet. Merely keeping him a secret from the Alliance is bad enough, but you went further with that deception. You used the Dream Stones you’ve banished to torture Sebastian Morgenstern in his dreams. Do you deny any of that?”

Slowly, the King of Darkness cocked his head to the side and he looked truly curious. “How did you come by that information?”

“Do you deny it?” Magnus repeated himself, more fiercely this time. His voice echoed in the small room turning a shade ominous.

Asmodeus sighed and leaned his chin on his hand. “I do not. If you need a reason behind it, have this: the boy was my prisoner to do with as I pleased. He paid with his sanity for his kingdom’s crimes. A fair trade.”

Suppressing a shiver, Magnus closed his hand into a fist in order to keep calm. “So you say his torture was justified? That you did not care for the fact that he was a mere boy, innocent from his father’s crimes? You tortured Sebastian and that lead to the death of thousands, nobles and common folk alike. Were they paying for someone else’s crimes too?“

When Asmodeus didn’t dignify that with even a reaction, Magnus added a whisper. “Was I?”

That drew something from the king. A mocking smile. “You? Magnus, your power has never been this big. This war has only brought you benefits. Stop complaining and making up silly allegations.”

“You misunderstand me, father,” Magnus said quietly. “I wasn’t talking about the war. My question is about something else. Was I paying for some crime I didn’t commit when you tortured me through Dream Stones?”

Finally, the King of Darkness frowned, surprised. “What?”

Magnus stared at him, at those cruel empty eyes. “You were well informed. I sent Alec to my room, but not to wait for me. Right now, he must have wrecked the headboard of my bed enough to find all the Dream Stones you hid in there. The ones you used to control my dreams. Common and demonic alike. So tell me, why? Why would you inflict on your own son the same torture you inflicted on a mass murderer?”

Asmodeus inhaled sharply and Magnus realized that for the very first time, there was no trace of boredom on his face. His father was alert, his full attention focused on this. “Not the same torture. I only showed Sebastian the images of king Valentine dying. There were no images for you. Only nightmares. ”

“What,” Magnus asked, enunciating every word so to make sure they all came out and none was swallowed by his outrage, “did you do to me?”

“I locked you. Or your mind, if you prefer. Your demonic dreams are a rare ability, but not an unprecedented one. Powerful as you are, I could not allow you to learn how to call upon them. You would never be able to control them, not their content, but with enough training and encouragement, you’d be able to open your eyes for them at will. So I made sure you’d never try it.” Asmodeus clenched his teeth. “A king with the power to seeing, to knowing is not a rival I can afford to have. But a tormented prince, too afraid to explore his gift? That I can bare. Even protect.”

Magnus frowned. “Use, you mean. You’ve never protected me.”

The king rolled his eyes, impatiently. “Same thing. With you too scared of reaching for the demon’s knowledge, too confused by it, you are just a spoiled brat who thinks too highly of himself. Not a symbol to those insufferable warlocks, not a ruler for the people. Don’t fool yourself into thinking you will ever be those things.”

“Only because you’ve stopped me from becoming those things,” Magnus said and realized that their confrontation was making him very tired. Asmodeus didn’t even seem to regret what he’s done, the suffering he had put Magnus through. The prince didn’t know what hurt the most, that or the fact that his father admitted to his crimes without a second of hesitation. “You broke the Alliance’s trust, but worst of all, you broke me. Your own son. Is there no one you won’t hurt? Is there any limits to your thirst for power?”

Asmodeus sighed and his face indicated how done he was with their conversation. “Please don’t lower yourself, Magnus. You should be honored that I would give you so much attention. My son, you are the only person in the world that I would not completely destroy, as long as you stay out of my way. All I did, was to ensure that. So you’d do good to remember this lesson.” He looked away. “Now, go rest and enjoy your lover. Your Lady Tessa did a good enough job while you were out playing at war, but she so often came to bother me. With you back, those interruptions must end.”

Magnus lifted his chin. “Oh, father… You needn’t worry about interruptions anymore. You are no longer king. Or you won’t be. Not after this confession. Not after everything you’ve done against the realm, against the Alliance. The Demons themselves won’t be able to save you from losing your crown.” 

That drew a smile from Asmodeus’ lips. “What are you saying, boy? You’d need the nobility at your side to cast me down and those rats are too afraid of me to ever defy me. Bring this accusations to them and they will only look away.”

“Fear is not the way to be a strong ruler. That is a lesson I’ve learned from a true king.” Magnus felt his heartbeat racing. “Once I am king, father, I will rule with respect. With competence. With truth. My subjects will look to me, not because they fear me, but because they believe in me. And because they know I will never use them for my own benefit.” He stopped for just a second. “Abdicate, father. Leave the throne and I will secure you a pardon. Do it now, before anyone else learns of your crimes.”

Asmodeus only response was to stand up and leave the anteroom. Magnus gasped, realizing he had been holding his breathe. 

Swallowing hard, Magnus pushed the door he had left cracked and faced the people waiting for him in the Great Hall. He looked at Lord Baal and Alec, and the sack of Dream Stones Alec carried. He looked at Ragnor, standing besides Lady Tessa and Lady Catarina. He looked at the castle’s resident warlock and his pale, shocked face. He looked at the nobles, and saw a range of emotions varying from fear, to anger, to resolve.

“The king refuses to step down and abdicate the throne,” the Prince of Darkness said loud enough to everyone there to hear. “Until he does, there is nothing I or anyone of you can do, for only a monarch can force another to give up their crown. For now, I shall look for a better future in my dreams. I suggest you all do the same.”

\---

King Asmodeus was arrested within a fortnight, after surviving several attempts on his life. The rumors of his treasons were added on by numerous other crimes and they spread through Edom like heavenly fire. Soon, all kings and queens of the Alliance received word, official or not. Many nobles wrote urging for help and the High Warlock declared Asmodeus an enemy of the Faith and possessed by demons, for only that explained the treatment he had inflicted on his son. Even Camille was able to strike a bargain on her life after admitting to every detail of her original plan with Asmodeus.

The king had lost all allies and although many still feared him, the tales of Magnus’ actions during the war showed them a future bright enough to eclipse that fear.

All the while, Magnus had kept to himself. He reduced his public appearances to walks in the gardens with Alec and visits with Lady Catarina and Lord Ragnor, and spent most of his time in the library, studying his Demonic Dreams and how to truly master them.

Alec thought that was for the best; the prince had to be above any doubts of involvement when Asmodeus lost his head. There could not be any claims of usurpation of the throne or it would destabilize the entire kingdom.

Sighing, Alec wondered when that was going to end. If that was ever going to end.

A tug on his sleeve made Alec return his attention to Lady Madzie. The girl had finished her drawing and waited expectantly for Alec’s opinion on it. It was a endearing picture of herself riding with Alec and another figure through the forest. “That is gorgeous work, little lady,” Alec said with a smile. “Is that third figure… Magnus?”

Madzie nodded excitedly and started out another drawing. At least when he was with her, Alec could stop thinking about politics. With her and with Magnus. There was only one good thing in waiting for nature to take its course and the nobles to depose of the king; Magnus was left alone to heal. They were sharing Alec’s new chambers, as the prince refused to sleep in his old bed even after the headboard had been removed, and that allowed Alec to be there whenever Magnus needed him.

It also allowed him to make sure Magnus was sleeping well and eating enough. The High Warlock had sent everything he had on gifts the Demons sometimes bestowed and Magnus had been researching each page without rest in order to finally be able to control his dreams. So far, he had learned that Asmodeus’ induced nightmares had been preventing Magnus from fully entering the state of mind he had to be in order to see the images that were shown. 

That explained the vague shadows and the distorted images that had terrorized him as a child. The dream Magnus had of Sebastian was an exceedingly powerful one, not at all the kind of seeings he was to be expected to see. However, once he was able to overcome his fears, Magnus was sure he would be able to direct his dreams into showing him answers and not terrors.

To watch him so excited about anything filled Alec’s heart with warmth. Magnus never said a word about it, but Alec knew he felt guilty about the hunt for his father. It had been easy for Alec to go after Sebastian when he held his sister and queen, but now that they had peace and prosperity, he could see how hard it was to bismarck their happiness with another execution. And to kill Magnus’ own family and leave him all alone seemed like a cruel mockery of all the good they had done.

Alec smiled at Madzie as the girl drew. No, Magnus wouldn’t be alone, not now, not ever. Alec would be at his side always. They had earned the places they held. It was not only love that bound Alec to Magnus and Magnus to Alec; it was their fight to be together and their never wavering belief in each other.

A war hadn’t been able to separate them and nothing ever would.

“Lord Alec,” Baal’s voice darkened the bright afternoon. “It is time.” 

Sighing heavily, Alec pressed a kiss against Lady Madzie’s hair and followed the Master of Secrets. Baal and him had been working closely the last couple of days, to make sure Magnus was not implicated in his father’s demise in any way, but that didn’t mean Alec enjoyed the man’s company.

But it was almost over, so Alec endured quietly. “Is it done?”

“Yes.” Lord Baal seemed calm, which was a good sign. He had made an impressive job of channeling the fear of the nobles into action against their king without ever putting himself into a position of leadership. The Master of Secrets worked in the shadows and that had allowed for the end of Asmodeus’ reign of terror. “The execution went swiftly. Asmodeus is dead.”

By the order of the Alliance, King Asmodeus was sentenced to death for his crimes. As a nobleman and a monarch, Asmodeus was not hung, but instead lost his head as custom determined. Luke had sent his best executioner and Queen Lily provided them with the sharpest blade on the planet. The Seelie King was the only one to abstain from the affair, alleging he would not decide the fate of any men or women who had plotted with his predecessor. 

Alec had personally signed for Alicante, in Clary’s name. The execution was done inside the castle’s walls, under the eyes of Edom’s nobility. “Was Magnus there?” Alec asked. He had been kept away from the details, as a foreigner.

Lord Baal shook his head. “The prince was spared the sight of his father’s corpse, as a kindness. Which was a blessing, considering the things Asmodeus said.” The lord inhaled sharply and shook his head, as if to forget. “Magnus asked me to bring you to him as soon as it was done, however. Which reminds me.” He gave Alec the royal seal. There was still blood on the edges of the inverted pentagram, symbol of Edom. “This belongs to him now.”

Wiping the ring clean, Alec stared at the seal. “Am I the right person to give this to him?”

“Who better to give Magnus his kingdom than his love?” Lord Baal sighed. “This is a bleak day, Lord Alec. I was hoping you could make it lighter for him.”

“I will.” Alec ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s only… I cannot crown him.”

Lord Baal smirked. “I was not aware I had given you the crown, merely a piece of jewelry. But I understand your confusion, they are both circular and golden. Allow me to explain the difference for you, my lord. The crown is worn on the head and a ring, on the fingers.”

Deciding there was no gain in discussing the matter, Alec clenched his teeth and didn’t dignify that with an answer. They quickly arrived at Magnus’ office and the guards announced their presence at once, as they were more than used to picking up on a fight in the making when seeing Alec and Baal left alone.

To Alec’s surprise, though, Lady Catarina opened the door. She smiled fondly at him. “Hello, Lord Alec. Looking even more dashing today than usual.”

Smiling, Alec touched his jacket. It was a present from Lady Catarina and Lord Ragnor. Black and blue, so to start introducing him to colors as they had said. “I had help.”

“You certainly did,” the lady winked at him and then turned to the Master of Secrets, her posture growing considerably more formal. “Lord Baal,” Catarina bowed courtely.

The lord’s jaw opened, but strangely no sound came out of it. Alec frowned and for a second he thought Baal had had a stroke, but then the man blinked strongly. “L-Lady Catarina,” he managed to say and bowed way too deeply, as one would for a queen and not a lady.

It made Catarina giggle and only part of that was pity. “Come on. We should leave them alone,” she said and for once in his life, Lord Baal had no witty answer. He simply followed her quietly, eyes never losing a sense of awe.

Alec had no idea what had just happened.

Inside the room, Magnus was seated by the window. His face carried a blank expression as Alec walked in and closed the door behind him, but when Magnus turned to face him, he smiled. 

It was a true smile and it put all of Alec’s concerns to rest. Magnus was fine.

“Catarina is right. You do look gorgeous,” he said and gestured for Alec to join him by the window. 

“She did something to Baal.” Alec sat besides him, brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of what he had just witnessed. “I’ve never seen him so quiet and… awkward. He was all quips and mockery, and then suddenly it was all gone and he forgot how to behave properly.”

Magnus chuckled and reached for Alec. The knight obliged and leaned against his chest, letting Magnus cross his arms around him and hold him tight. “Love will make people do strange things,” Magnus said. “It made me go to your chambers after having too much to drink during the torney.”

“It made me kiss you through a cell’s bars,” Alec said. “But what does love- Oh.”

Magnus sneered. “Do your best not to hold that against him, will you? The situation is bad enough as it is.”

Alec shrugged. “I will make no such promises for that would be lying.”

“Fair enough.” Magnus smiled and leaned his cheek against Alec’s head. “Thank you for being here, Alexander. I am not ready to go out of this room.”

Listening to Magnus’ fast heartbeat, Alec looked up to him. “Is that because outside of this room you are now Magnus Bane, King of Darkness, Lord of Edom, Son of Lilith, Slayer of Demons, Defender of the Alliance?” He took the ring out of his pocket and showed it to Magnus.

The soft chuckle that escaped Magnus’ lips made Alec’s own heartbeat slow down to a rhythm of peace. “That last one is not an official title.” He looked at Alec and took the ring, putting it in place. And then Magnus held their hands together. “But yes. I would like to be just Magnus Bane one more night before all of that.”

“You can’t,” Alec said gently and pulled away so he could face his lover. “You’ve always been a king, Magnus. Your title changes nothing, because this is who you are. A good man who makes for a great leader. But we will stay here for as long as you want. They can have you tomorrow, but not tonight.”

“My valiant knight,” Magnus said and put his hand on Alec’s face, leaning forward to kiss him. “How long until I can make you my king consort without arising much protest from my nobles who seek an advantageous marriage to their children?”

Alec smiled. “Not long, I hope. I can only take so many marriage proposals thrown your way before I kiss you in front of the entire court.”

“Oh, Alexander,” Magnus said with a chuckle, not an ounce of reproach in his voice. “May you never find Hell.”

This time, the saying did not sound as a goodbye, nor as the end in any way. It felt like a wish, a prayer of sorts. A blessing. Alec touched his King’s hand. “And may Hell never find you.”

“It won’t, my love.” Magnus smiled. “For when I am with you, I am always in Heaven.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3
> 
> Huge thank you for the beta [QueenCow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenCow/pseuds/QueenCow). Not only for beta-reading this, but for all the support, the extraness, and the laughs. I love you, girl <3
> 
> I'm on [Tumblr](http://sweetillusionketz.tumblr.com/) and on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/Ketz_CML/). Kudos and comments are always appreciated! I'll be tracking #adop on twitter, if anyone feels like live-tweeting :)
> 
> Ketz


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